Glad It Wasn't Me
by corvusdraconis
Summary: (An Ottermione/Crackfic story!) Voldemort botched his attempt at immortality when he tried to make his first Horcrux and attempted to murder someone and ended up defeating himself. Idiot. Now, no one likes a Slytherin, and the world just seems… mad. (AU)
1. So Glad It Wasn't Me

**[Summary]** (An Ottermione story!) Voldemort botched his attempt at immortality when he tried make his first Horcrux and tried to murder someone and ended up defeating himself. Idiot. Now, no one likes a Slytherin, and the world just seems… mad.

 **A/N:** This one is for **shayalonnie** , who is, like me, trying to shake a horrible bout with the flu. Ottermione makes everything better!

 **Beta:** Calloniel (and cal looked at it! She did! I swear!)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 **Glad It Wasn't Me**

Once upon a time, there was a Dark Lord. Or rather, he would have been a Dark Lord had he not been so insufferably arrogant that he never saw the wands coming for him. He attempted to make something called a Horcrux on his quest for immortality. The spell reflected off his first victim and trapped the entire soul of Tom Riddle into a diary that very conveniently detailed the entirety of his sins for all to see. They decided to destroy the diary in fiendfyre to insure it couldn't be put back together again. They realised when the screaming stopped that they had just rid themselves of a Dark Lord rising.

It was a glorious day for the Aurors. It was an even more glorious day for the Wizarding world. It was a horrible day for Pureblood supremacists—especially the ones so fanatical to the cause that they had a skull and serpent tattoo branded into their arm with Dark magic. It was a dark day for Headmaster Dumbledore, who blamed himself for introducing Tom Riddle to magic. No one truly blamed the man, though, and the Wizarding world picked itself up and went on.

Due to the shaming of Slytherin House after Tom Riddle, I wasn't sure what to think while sitting on the train to Hogwarts that first year. I kept my mouth shut as to what I wanted to be in, and unfortunately I and my best friend of however many years were separated during the Sorting Ceremony. That lasted maybe twenty minutes for the announcements to be made, and then Lily dragged me by ear to meet her new friends in Gryffindor. They all seemed pretty bummed that I was in Slytherin, and who could blame them for thinking I had the shaft. Tom Riddle, failure Dark Lord and successful psychopath had come from Slytherin. Obviously the PR department needed some reorganisation for Team Slytherin. Even the Head of my House seemed flustered to be affiliated with it.

Black always said I was better off hanging with them, anyway, pointing out how Mulciber ate nightshade paste as a kid, and Avery was dropped on his head as a baby when his mother was hit with a stray Cruciatus. Lucius was always very hush hush about about happened in that regard, and no one in Slytherin wanted fess up or confess to what had really happened. Lucius' father was convicted as a Death Eater and imprisoned in Azkaban, dying shortly after from Dragon Pox. As if the shaming of being one of the idiots that supported the Dark Failure wasn't bad enough, his father had sprouted scales, breathed fire, and died sitting on top of a horde of toilet paper in Azkaban as he screamed, "Precious, my precious!" for, like, a week straight before he finally died of consumption. I mean that literally. He ate the entire pile of paper. It was not a dignified death. Lucius distanced himself as far from Death Eater material as he could get. He wanted nothing to do with the shadow of his father. He learned extra strong Lumos spells just for that reason. Muggles would have called it a psychosis, perhaps, but at least wherever we went I never had to worry about tripping around in the dark.

Potter and I got off on the wrong foot, and he tried to turn me into and elk at the dinner table. He claimed it was a spell his parents taught him to entertain others at parties. Lupin told me to just put a sticking charm on his hands so he'd stick to the first thing he touched after lunch that day. Let's just say Potter had some explaining to do to many influential people at Hogwarts as well as his parents. He never tried to make me the brunt of anything too horrible after that.

One year, Peter Pettigrew led me out to this haunted shack outside Hogsmeade. He said Lupin was in trouble and that Peter couldn't get in to help him. The shack had no visible doors or windows. Who builds that kind of thing? And I thought _my_ father was horrible planner. There was apparently someone even more hermit-like than my drunkard father. I heard Lupin screaming on the other side of the wall, and I tried to find a way in. Peter let me to path that he said he saw Lupin run up before.

What happened after pretty much cemented the friendship with the Gryffindor crew. Peter had apparently thought "scaring Snape" was still the best after school activity to be had and lured me into range of the resident werewolf. Black and Potter had saved my life by driving me back towards a closeable grate before turning into animals to drive the slavering werewolf away from me.

After it was all said and done, Lupin was horrified at what had almost happened, but nothing—NOTHING—was as terrifying as Lily Evans' wrath upon one Peter Pettigrew. Headmaster Dumbledore's expelling of Peter from Hogwarts seemed to be almost a relief to Peter after Lily was done with him. Correction, she hadn't finished with him at all. Dumbledore had _rescued_ him from a fate worse than death. All I could think was I was hoping I never pissed her off like that.

After that event, Potter and Black convinced me to be an Animagus with them to keep Remus company. It only took me a year of study, much to their dismay. I, unlike Potter and Black, took lessons from Professor McGonagall and registered with the Animagus Registry. I may hang out with bloody Gryffindors, but I still had a Slytherin's sensibility. They told me it took them two years to obtain their full Animagus form. Ha. Amateurs.

As it turns out, I ended up a bloody cave lion. That was overkill. Whenever Lupin got out of line, I just sat on him. I _literally_ just sat on him. Ever wondered how large a cave lion actually was? Lupin didn't wonder anymore. Even Potter looked nervous around me. Professor McGonagall asked if I minded being poked and prodded by Wizarding archaeologists, "For science," as she put it, and I had accepted. Because of that, however, I gained the attention of some great Masters, gained an apprenticeship, and was on my ways to Potion Mastery before I even graduated with my N.E.W.T.s. Professor Slughorn seemed to think I was putting the honour back into Slytherin. I was just glad I would have a job when I graduated. I had my priorities, after all.

Time passed. We all graduated. Lily and Potter got married, predictably. I tried not to hurl during the ceremony. The Black brothers became Hit Wizards, spending equal amounts of time tracking down dangerous criminals and lying in the hospital beds with their names on them at St. Mungo's trying to recover from said dangerous criminals. Potter became an Auror, Lily worked at the Ministry and managed to replace a witch named Dolores Umbridge, who had been found lying on her documentation of interrogating 'suspects' and was guilty of multiple other horrible crimes against just about everyone. No one had been sorry to see that woman thrown into Azkaban. I had seen her once from a distance. She was very... _pink_. That was all I needed to know. She probably deserved everything she got.

Now, some fifteen years after my graduation from Hogwarts, I thought I had seen everything as a professor. I'd had people try to blow themselves up, try to blow _other_ people up, turn themselves into Acromantulas, and even had a couple de-age themselves into toddlers. Unfortunately, I'd been caught in that last chaotic mess, and found myself the only professor at Hogwarts that had been turned in bloody teenager. Albus had some contacts that were willing to work with me to change the children back into… older children. They managed to turn me into a twenty something before they determined that the amount of potion it would take to put me back to where I had been would probably kill me. Wonderful.

Black, of course, said to look at the bright side. I apparently now had a much larger dating pool to work with. I hexed him, and, as he was rolling on the ground moaning in pain, I told him I wasn't taking dating advice from a canine who couldn't keep a girlfriend for longer than a month. His brother, Regulus, had agreed with me. Regulus had always been the more level headed of the Black brothers. It was good to know he hadn't lost that over the years of exposure to insanity in the form of his sibling.

As I stared down at the floor of my Potions classroom, I saw Potter's spawn… er, _son_ , his best mate, Weasel—uh, Weasley, Longbottom's inept klutz of a son, and a boy named Finnigan, who liked to blow things up just by looking at it. And as I stared down at them, fingers tapping a rhythm on the worn wood of my desk, they were all looking _utterly_ guilty. At their feet was a pile of garments: a school uniform. In the middle of that was an… otter.

"What the bloody hell did you do to Hermione?" Lucius' son screamed from across the classroom. _Ah, Draco_ , I thought with something resembling fondness. _Your lungs are just as functional as they were the day you were born. Painful and unnecessary lungs that they are._

The small otter, not quite fully grown as otters went, stared up at me with wide, scared brown eyes. I leaned down and wrapped my hands around her, pulling her up with the pile of discarded uniform, and the moment her webbed paws wrapped around my fingers and her eyes locked into mine, I felt a jolt of magic. Despite not having a familiar in all the years I was at Hogwarts, I knew that was what it was. My heart melted, and the little creature crawled into my arms, snuggled into my robes, and adamantly refused to leave. As the beat of her small heart thudded against my skin and the whisper of her breath against my neck caused an almost visceral desire to hug her tight, I knew I was doomed. I knew it was all going to land me in the place I always ended up landing in: Albus' office.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The otter, or Hermione Granger, stalwart friend of Potter's son and the youngest male Weasel was sitting in my lap, fussing with one of Albus' lemondrops. She was licking at it with enthusiasm, apparently unaware of the unspoken rule that everyone refused Albus' lemondrops. By all accounts, she was the brightest witch of her class, and despite her tendency to recite book knowledge word for word, she had shown herself to be quite bright and keen on learning, unlike her peers. Minerva, for example, had already taken her underwing as an apprentice, supplementing her studies as she did her normal classes. Albus had even given her permission to use a time-turner to fit all of her lessons into one day and still have enough time to sleep.

"You're sure, Poppy?" Albus was muttering.

There was a thump of weight in my lap, and Minerva was sharing space with the otter that was Hermione Granger. She lay beside her, and the young otter squeaked appreciatively, snuggling up to the silver tabby as though her situation was the most normal thing.

Poppy nodded. "It's a true familiar bond, Albus," Poppy answered. "Even if you find a way to change her back, that bond will remain until either she or Severus dies."

Hermione went very still in my lap, and Minerva began licking the top of her head furiously to comfort her. My hand stroked both the otter and Minerva, since they were both sharing my lap. Both seemed to approve, and I wasn't sure how to feel about either of them being there.

"What does this mean, Poppy? For Miss Granger? For Severus?" Albus asked. "What does this mean to Minerva? They already have a Master and Apprentice bond! What am I going to tell the Board of Governors?" Despite the words of concern, the Headmaster didn't appear all that concerned. In fact, he seemed rather amused by the situation, hand casually resting against his lips to hide a smile.

Poppy looked at the Headmaster like he'd grown a fifth head and skipped over the second, third, and fourth. "Just because you have one bond, Headmaster, does not mean others cannot form. You can love more than one person. You can have multiple working relationships at once."

"Poppy, this is hardly a natural occurrence," Dumbledore protested, stroking his beard. "A familiar is expected to be around their partner more often than not. She's apprenticed! She's a student!" I thought his shoulders might be starting to quiver—if he started laughing...

"She's also sitting right here, Headmaster," I said with a heavy sniff. "Her hearing is also not damaged." My hand had already found the perfect spot to rub the otter behind the ears in order to get her to make an adorable and disarmingly cute purr-squeaking sound. With every touch, the familiar bond was growing stronger, and I knew before long, the Headmaster's entire tirade would be moot. I was already craving sea urchins on her behalf. I was pretty sure that wasn't a normal thing for me.

Almost positive.

Albus stroked his beard a little faster. "Well I know that—" he started to say and then stopped as a sudden chuckle escaped his lips, which he proceeded to mask as a cough. He avoided my harsh glare in favor of handing Hermione another lemon drop. She happily accepted, despite her currently unfinished candy, and dropped it in replacement of the new treat..

Minerva meowed and nudged Hermione with her nose. The otter squeaked a reply. Minerva lifted her head and jerked it towards where Fawkes was swinging on his perch, his tempting tail feathers draping down to the floor. Hermione shoved her candy into her cheek as the pair jumped off Severus' lap and dove under the sofa dust ruffle, disappearing from sight.

Albus, so busy attempting to avoid his chronic laughter, didn't even notice the two shadows approaching Fawkes. Minerva was taking her role as master and apprentice very seriously. Hermione wasn't letting her ottery condition deter her soaking up of knowledge. The bond between us thrummed, and I could feel her amusement in her mind. In _my_ mind. The corner of my lips twitched upward.

As Albus continued his conference with Poppy, I struggled very hard to remember my Occlumency. Out of the corner of my eye, a wiley otter was running off with one of Fawke's tail feathers, who chased after her with avid focus, while Minerva was swinging back and forth on the abandoned perch. I was never more glad for Dumbledore's more recently distracted mind.

To my credit, when Albus finally finished whatever long, drawn out sentence he had crafted, and turned around to see Minerva curled up on his desk with a young otter snuggled up to her fur and Fawkes roosting on top of them like a brooding, flame-coloured hen, I kept a straight face. Poppy didn't, but she could get away with a lot of things, considering all the times she patched up every occupant in the room over the years. Miss Granger was not an exception to that, either. She had already demonstrated a proclivity to turn herself into a different species and get herself petrified on her friend's behalf. I was going to have to teach her a better sense of self-preservation. It was the least I could do.

Albus slapped himself in the face with his palm. "Fine," he said at last. "The both of you can train her, otter or not. Connect your quarters together and tack on an apprentice quarters for her, and I'll get the paperwork filed with the Board of Governors and the Mastership Guild. I'll contact Gilderoy Lockhart. He just came back from some groundbreaking work with accidental transfiguration according to the paper he published. He owes me a favour. Maybe he can assist you and Minerva in at least restoring her to her normal form before Mr and Mrs Granger wonder why their daughter didn't show up for Christmas holidays."

Lockhart… Lockhart… where had I heard that name before?

And why did I feel the sudden urge to maim? Hmm.

"As you wish, Headmaster," I said neutrally, scooping up Minerva and Hermione in my arms. The otter squeaked cutely and snuggled into my arms like it was her job. Minerva did what most cats do and looked sickeningly comfortable.

As I walked out of the office, Fawkes landed on my shoulder, apparently thinking where his tail thieves were going, he was going too. I managed to get halfway back down to the dungeons before Albus quietly appeared before me, stopped, transferred Fawkes to his shoulder, and then drifted down the hallway muttering a fond, "No loyalty amongst phoenixes, either," and "Next, I'll learn Lockhart is a charlatan who can't cast the most basic magic."

I looked down at the otter in my arms and the lazy silver tabby and smiled in amusement. I wondered what my life would have been like had the Dark Lord not been the failure he had turned out to be.

Whatever it would have been, it couldn't be worse than what I hear Peter Pettigrew was doing. Muggles had caught him out in his rat form and used him for product testing. He's been peeing fluorescent green for years and was completely bald.

Damn, so glad that wasn't me. Now, if I could just get Mr Longbottom and Mr Finnigan to stop blowing up the spare cauldrons (I was starting to run out) the world could breath a little easier.

Suddenly, I remembered the lesson Lupin had taught me back in the day when Potter was picking on me.

"Ms Granger," I addressed the sleepy otter. "How do you feel about learning wandless magic and sticking charms?"

Hermione perked up in my arms and squeaked excitedly.

I felt the grin spread across my face. "Excellent."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 **A/N:** Hope this cheered you up, Shayla 3


	2. Chapter 2 Ottery Education

**A/N:** Merging a bit of the shorts I did for Quidditch Pitch into this story.

 **Beta Love:** fluffpanda  & The Dragon and the Rose

 **Glad It Wasn't Me**

Chapter 2: Ottery Education

Severus stared down at his pile of half-graded parchments as if glaring at them would make their grammar better. His eyes narrowed into slits as his fingers drummed against the desk. A squeaky brown blur of fur bounced over his wrist as he was writing.

Was that a quill? Was that his favourite green quill?

There was a splashing sound and more squeaking followed by the tappity tap tapping of a stone against shell.

Severus slid his eyes over to the left, eyeing the miniature tidal pool he had set up for one squeaky otter of note, though he had to admit that she was the only otter of note in his life at that given moment. Hermione was cracking open yet another abalone shell, devouring the insides, sorting the resulting shell according to quality of lustre, size, and colour. They had made a small killing for high quality abalone shell for use in potion ingredients and jewelry as well as incense bowls and other such miscellaneous. Between the abalone shells, fresh and saltwater pearls, and unofficial seafood "fetching" business, he was set to provide for Hermione's education and wellbeing as well as his own for more than a lifetime. People paid an obscene amount of Muggle or Wizarding money for fresh seafood and high quality reagents, and Hermione was a go-getter when it came to finding seafood. For every one thing she brought back for a customer, she brought back twice as much for their personal use, and Minerva had become the world's most content seafood-fed feline Animagus on this side of the pond.

Due to her "condition," Hermione had become a fast learner in silent and wandless magic, however, he was starting to believe that intent of language translated into Otterese because Hermione could place her paws on a wand and cast some pretty impressive magic. Flitwick had crafted Hermione a charmed wand-pendant out of her wand, and Hermione wore the small abalone choker around her neck in case she needed a wand. It had the unfortunate side effect that every time she cast a spell with her "wand" magic would shoot out of her eyes or out from her tail tip, which started an entire rumour mill that she could shoot lasers out of her eyes and her arse when pissed off. Severus wasn't sure if that was a good bit of PR or bad.

Every class had an enchanted slate she was allowed to use to communicate in English to answer questions, and Hermione proved to be just as enthusiastic a writer as she was a talker before she had been otterfied. All of her teachers, with the exception of Trelawney, adored her in class. He had to fetch his familiar from Trelawney's tower. Trelawney had been convinced that Hermione was a Grim in disguise thanks to one of his Slytherins covering her in black ink. How the woman mistook an ink-covered otter for a Grim, he would never know, but she had blasted Hermione out of the tower window screaming that "DEATH WAS COMING FOR EVERYONE!" before Draco had Accioed his broom to his hand and rescued Hermione from a very undignified death.

Hermione was thereby banished from Divination, and Snape couldn't quite decide if that was how Hermione preferred it. Instead of Divination, she took to following him around during study hall, perching on his shoulder, snuggling up to his neck, and then imitating his movements with her paws from atop his shoulder. No one else would dare, yet somehow she made it look adorable. He would catch her at it and she would freeze in place, staring at him with wide, adorable eyes.

When he had enough of her shenanigans, he would pass her off to Minerva for their lessons, and Minerva seemed to think Hermione imitating her was the most endearing thing ever. Hermione became very talented at gestural transfiguration. She would gesture with her paws, making a squeaking noise, and goblets would turn into birds and back again. She once accidentally transfigured a pachyderm that proceeded to sit on Goyle's desk. She squeaked in shame and then crawled into Draco's pocket in embarrassment to hide out the repercussions. Minerva was a lot of things, but she was not senile. She had Hermione writing "I will not transfigure pachyderms on my classmate's desk" in transfiguration alphabet an hour that evening before she was allowed to do her homework. Severus had tried to look stern and agreeable to Minerva's wrath, but he couldn't help but smile slightly when McGonagall wasn't looking. Goyle had to explain to his parents why he needed his wand replaced. It was worth every moment of listening to Goyle stammer to his parents that he had been bested by an otter wielding a wand.

All things said, once the punishment was given, Minerva and Hermione were back to being amicable, and Hermione got her whiskers up into McGonagall's business after she was done with her homework until Severus was done grading his parchments and watching over the detentions.

When full moons came, Hermione would assist in keeping Remus company, and the werewolf seemed to enjoy the otter's company more than being sat on by Severus' massive cave lion form or Sirius' nipping him on the rump each night. She seemed to like riding between Potter's prongs, and would chatter off commands in Otterese as though she was the boss of him. Strangely, Potter seemed to understand what she wanted just fine even without a familiar Bond. More miraculously, he would listen to her.

Lily adored Hermione, and after reaming out her son for his reckless endangerment of his friends, proceeded to love on Hermione like she was family, which ended up being a good thing in the end. Hermione's parents did not take the transformation of their daughter well. No matter how much Hermione had tried prove to them that the otter they were seeing was their daughter, their denial was stronger.

Hermione had spent the next week hiding under Severus' four-poster bed, refusing to come out, refusing to go to class, and refusing to eat. When exhaustion had finally claimed her, Severus had cradled her to his chest and tucked her against his body. He fed her her medications and fluids with a tiny bottle until she was strong enough to take bits of seafood gumbo he had cooked himself. He and Minerva took turns carrying her around until she was well again. He considered it good that she wasn't full grown, as carrying around a full-grown otter would have been an interesting exercise in comedy.

When he found her with her nose stuck in a pile of study books, her paws waving in the air like a conductor to the orchestra to cast the magic to turn the pages for her, he knew she was on the mend, and Lily's visits seemed to soothe the young otter-witch a little more by providing the kind of demonstrative warmth that mothers were prone to do.

Gilderoy Lockhart came at Dumbledore's request to "cure" Hermione, and he came with a list of credentials so long it was hard to see the man over the pile of references. When Severus came in to check on them, however, he saw Hermione hanging limply from Lockhart's arm as though she had no bones left in her body. Minerva saw it around the same time he had, and her shriek of dismay had been loud enough to send the portraits yelling for Dumbledore.

Lockhart had been stammering excuses as both Minerva and Severus had carried Hermione's limp form to the hospital wing. Poppy gave her an elixir to regrow her bones, and Hermione had made the most horrible face as she lapped at it, glaring at Poppy like she was trying to kill her with poison.

Poppy somehow soothed the young otter witch into drinking what she had, but Severus felt the disgusted and quite colourful vernacular coming from her mind. Apparently she had been paying too close attention to Black and his creative use of the Queen's English. He soothed her with some of her favourite shrimp and clams, and Hermione has seemed for forgive Poppy for giving her the horrible concoction and Severus for having allowed it to be given to her. Minerva ended up staying with her that night since Snape had patrol duties that evening, and the bond between the elder Animagus and the young otter-witch seemed to grow even stronger.

Severus returned the next morning to find Minerva coming as close to losing her cool as he had ever seen her.

"You will not, Mr Lockhart!" Minerva screeched. "It's bad enough that the poor dear had to be dosed with Skele-grow in order to put her back together. I will not have you waving your wand at her anymore!"

"Madam McGonagall," Lockhart stammered her title incorrectly. "P—professor. I assure you I have the proper qualifications!"

"Do do _what_ , exactly?" Minerva seethed. "Debone chickens for the Muggle farming industry?"

"Madam, I assure you," Lockhart began.

"You can assure yourself right out that door, Mr Lockhart," the Scottish witch growled, a hint of the cat in her voice.

"I was hired to resolve this issue with the transformed student, Madam!" Lockhart announced. "I cannot leave until my task has been done!"

"You've done quite enough, Mr Lockhart," Poppy said as she came out from behind the curtain. "It was bad enough that you made most of her bones disappear, but I think even if she hadn't already been used to being an otter for the past few months, being turned into a velociraptor is one transformation too many! You're just lucky Professor Snape had taught her meditative techniques to keep from being overrun by a second set of instincts!"

Severus blinked at the mention of velociraptor. He rushed past Poppy and looked behind the curtain and stared at what should have been his familiar or at least something he recognised. Instead, a feathered crest rose from a reptilian head lifted to stare at him. A long tail ended in a fan of feathers as she shook herself.

"Kkrh!" the creature called, the sound piercing the room with its resonance. "Kkrh! Kkrh! Screeeeee!"

That was the only warning he received before he was slammed into the ground and the female otter gone velociraptor pounced on him with a screech.

She slammed her feathered head against his body with a unnerving purring sound, her rear foot claws coming disturbingly close to places he'd rather not have punctured.

The last thing he thought before her many pointed teeth came bearing down towards his face was, "I guess that theory that velociraptors had feathers was correct."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Thankfully, Lockhart's skill in transfiguration was so deplorable that Hermione's secondary transformation didn't last long. Hermione returned to her normal, or rather what had become normal, furry and web-footed self and lay on top of Severus' chest with a cheerful squeak. She snuggled into him, rubbing her whiskers against his chin and burrowing into his robes, and all Severus could do was thank each of his lucky stars by name in alphabetical order that all Hermione had wanted to do, even as a transfigured dinosaur, was greet him with enthusiasm. He was equally thankful that Lockhart was apparently an idiot.

Hermione gave him a cheerful chain of squeaks and warm thoughts from her mind as she rubbed all over his face. He knew it was more to reassure herself than him, but it served both purposes. He was glad she was okay. He pulled her warm body close to him in a hug, sighing with relief. She bonked her skull into his chin with a sharp whap, proving that her bones were no longer missing.

"Mr Lockhart!" Minerva's voice exclaimed. "Put that wand away!"

"I'm sorry, Madams," Lockhart answered, "but I cannot allow you to speak of his."

"Mr Lockhart! This is an infirmary!" Poppy's voice joined Minerva's in protest.

Severus shot a look towards Hermione, tapping her nose. He gestured with his head silently. Hermione's playful demeanour changed instantly, and she hopped off him and bounded off along the privacy curtain.

Snape stood, pulling his wand out in a smooth motion. He squared his jaw and walked beyond the curtain. "And what, pray tell, has a guest of this school drawing their wand against the faculty," he droned tonelessly.

Lockhart aimed his wand at Severus, perhaps having forgotten that he had even been there. "Ah, ah! Do put that wand down, Professor. We wouldn't want anything horrible to happen here."

Snape scowled, eyes flicking to Minerva and Poppy. He slowly put his wand down on the nearby table, his eyes locked on Lockhart's face.

Lockhart gestured for the three of them to move together, and they reluctantly did. He seemed to mumble to himself, as if debating on what he was going to do with them all. His face was conflicted a moment before the mask of charm settled in again. "I fear there will be a horrible tragedy here today," Lockhart announced. "Pity really, but thankfully, I will remain to tell the Headmaster all about it." He saw Minerva going for her wand and refocused on her. "Thankfully, while I wasn't all that great at Transfiguration. I was exceedingly well-versed in memory charms. Mass memory charms, actually. "Obli—"

It was at that moment that Hermione reminded Lockhart about the lesson he apparently missed while he was sitting classes as a child: one should always know where your otter is. Rather, one should always know where any otter is, or one should at least always know where Ottermione was. The fuzzy little demon dashed out from under the privacy curtain, scampered up his pant leg, and nailed him right in the family jewels.

Lockhart screamed in mid-spell as some odd beam came shooting out of his wand and ricocheted off the hospital ward window and slammed into his head. At the same time, Minerva and Poppy went diving to the floor as Minerva had her wand in her hand. She cast a Stupefy towards Lockhart before she even hit the ground. Severus had his wand in his hand in time to send an Incarcerous spell zinging from his wand before Lockhart even hit the floor

Lockhart lay on the ground with a blank look on his face. Whatever perversion of the Obliviate spell ended with screaming had apparently done a number on his mind.

Later, in Dumbledore's office, Hermione was busily sucking on every lemon drop she could get her mouth on as Minerva, Severus, and Poppy explained to Albus and the team of Aurors what had happened in the infirmary. _The Daily Prophet_ had gotten wind of it in time to make the morning edition, and Gilderoy Lockhart was incarcerated at St Mungo's before the ink was dry. No one was entirely sure what the spell had done to his brain, but the healer in charge had made a swirling motion with his fingers, smashed his fingers together, and wrung them together by ways of demonstration.

The main lesson of the day, as by consensus, was: always know where your Ottermione is.


	3. Chapter 3 Otter Bout You

**A/N:** Still trying to beat up my muse to give me inspiration for One Step. In the meantime, I give you more Ottermione.

 **Prompt:** Drunk

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose

* * *

Glad It Wasn't Me

Chapter 3

Otter 'bout You?

When Severus had returned to his chambers, Hermione nestled in his arms, he discovered that Hogwarts had seen fit to reward the little otter-witch in its own way: a larger tidal pool. He had thought the tidal pool he made was an acceptable size, but Hogwarts, apparently, disagreed. He could probably sell tickets as a natural otter habitat, if he could tolerate people being around. Equally baffling, Hogwarts had seen to expanding Severus' quarters in order to do it, and there were other surprises lying in wait soon after.

Hermione took to the new addition gleefully, slipping into the water with natural finesse. She disappeared under the water for some time, and Severus began to worry when she didn't come back up. He was about to consider diving into the pool to look for her when Minerva showed up in his floo.

"Severus," she called with an amused tone. "Mind if I come over?"

"As you wish, Minerva," he replied.

Shortly after Minerva walked through the green flames and sported a grin on her face. Hermione was in her arms, squeaking up an excited storm. Minerva took one look at the tidal pool and smiled. "Well that explains it."

"Do tell," Severus said, prodding her verbally to spill the beans.

"I have one too, in my chambers," Minerva explained. "They're connected."

Snape's eyebrow raised into his hair.

"Hogwarts seems to think she needs access to the both of us," Minerva chuckled.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. Meddling school.

"Albus probably had something to do with it," he said after a moment.

Minerva set Hermione down, and the otter-witch slipped into the tidal pool and lay on her back. Every so often she'd spin around, but she mostly lay floating on the surface and eyed both of her mentors with visible warmth in her thoughts.

"I told her she could have the day off after the last few days," Minerva said. "Albus seems to think she could use a bit of a break from the drama after Gilderoy Lockhart. Personally, I think he's just trying to make up for the mess of hiring the buffoon to begin with."

Severus nodded. He wasn't overly concerned. Hermione was always a week ahead in her studies even as an otter than the majority of Hogwarts. There might have been a few Ravenclaws that would have given her a run, but no one was attempting to as far as he knew. It was the weekend, anyway, and most students who weren't apprentices had the day off anyway.

Minerva tapped her finger to her chin, which Severus had come to realise meant she was plotting something that Albus would probably not approve of. That also meant that Severus would probably support her in it. "I'm thinking we should take Ottermione to the beach," she announced, gaining the attention of one floating otter almost immediately. It would be good to get her away from Hogwarts for a while. The nickname "Ottermione" had become a faculty favourite, and even Lily and the Marauders had picked up calling her by that moniker.

The beach was always an otter pleaser. Hermione loved the coast, and both Professors knew it was little things like that which kept their apprentice from dwelling on her predicament. It seemed, however, at least after the first year of being trapped in otter form, that Hermione had embraced the change. There were times when she would seek him out, burrow under his robes, and wedge her head under his hand for comfort for whatever reason, but such times were rare. Often times, she simply sought his or Minerva's company for companionship. After hundreds of specialists came to try and solve the puzzle of why Hermione was locked in otter form, no one could seem to figure out why she remained that way. Minerva encouraged Hermione to do intensive study as an Animagus in the hopes that it would do the reverse and allow her to regain her human form, but that resulted in turning her into a female cave lion. Minerva ended up blaming Severus for his prehistoric influence.

"Me?" he retorted. "It's not my fault the universe seems to think changing her into various prehistoric creatures is a good idea! Why not blame the Marauders who decided to give her wings?"

"You're a cave lion, Severus!" Minerva countered. "Who else would she have learned it from!"

"Since when do you learn what form to take, Minerva?" Severus argued. "You know we have no control over that sort of thing!"

Minerva was scratching Hermione's very large cave lion belly. Hermione was rumbling with a purr so loud it rattled the nearby table.

"Why not blame yourself, Minerva?" Severus asked. "You've been teaching her how to stalk Fawkes, lay in sunbeams, and revel in the glory of all things catnip."

Minerva sighed. "Hermione," she said with a sigh. "What are we going to do with you, my girl?"

Hermione purred, placing one large paw against Minerva's arm.

Severus laid one hand on Hermione's lion head. "Turn back for me," he requested softly.

Foop.

Ottermione stared at him with with wide otter eyes. She squeaked at him, searching his eyes for approval.

"Insufferable girl," Snape said kindly, extending his arms to her.

Hermione squeaked happily and hopped into his arms, snuggling against him with happy squeaks.

"At least I don't have to worry about you being abused by any future dates," Severus said with a small smile. "You can just sit on them or show them all of your pearly whites."

Hermione grinned at him, wiggling her whiskers.

"Come then," Severus crooned. "Off to the Ministry to get you registered as an Animagus."

Hermione chirped pleasantly.

"As what?" asked Minerva with amusement. "Cave lion or otter?"

Severus stared down at Hermione with a smug smile. "Which do you think they would believe more?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"No fair, Hermione," Draco complained as he stood on the sandbar offshore. "You're cheating."

The otter paddled circles around him, rolling and spinning in the waves.

Draco carefully aimed his wand and conjured a bubble over his head, then disappeared under the waves with her.

"Those two have an unlikely friendship," Minerva noted as she flipped the page of the novel she was reading.

"Perhaps in a different life, they would have been sworn adversaries," Severus confessed.

"Good thing you taught the boy how to do the Bubble-head charm," Minerva noted.

"I think everyone that has been exposed to Hermione has had to learn the Bubble-head charm by default," Severus noted.

"Are you and Lucius finally able to have tea without reporters thinking the Dark Lord is rising again?" Minerva asked.

"Yes," Severus answered. "Thankfully the disgrace of his father did not stick with him, and he is doubly thankful that his son was not grouped in with that Death Eater shaming."

"I do wonder what it could have been like, had Tom Riddle not killed himself with that horrible botched curse. If he hadn't left the diary of all of his terrible plans for immortality and using the old Pureblood mentality to cause a war, things would have turned out so much worse for everyone had all that come to pass."

Severus shook his head. "I have a feeling we would not be sitting here on the beach watching our apprentice competing with Draco Malfoy on who can bring up the biggest lobster."

"How did you justify taking Mr Malfoy off the school grounds to Albus?" Minerva asked.

Snape snorted. "That was easy. Crabbe and Goyle performed some sort of spellcasting experiment in the dormitory. Now, every time Draco tries to walk into any of the dormitories, the beds spring to life and try to devour him. They swear it wasn't on purpose, but until they clean up that mess, I told Albus that Draco was better off coming with us this afternoon and providing an extra set of hands."

Minerva chortled into her hand. "Those two are a menace to the school. If they aren't eating their way into the infirmary, they are botching their homework so epically that Albus has considered writing their parents about remedial lessons during the summer."

Severus made a disapproving face. "I, for one, do not want to spend my summer trying to reteach them Potions."

"Hagrid said someone slipped Mr Goyle a love potion mixed in with a hippogriff feather," Minerva noted. "He spent the better part of an hour spouting poetry to a hippogriff named Buckbeak."

Severus winced. "Yes, I had to write his parents and explain that one. It wasn't because we had trouble curing him. It was because he tried to smuggle Buckbeak into the dormitory."

Minerva blinked a few times. "I hadn't heard about that one."

"That was your night watching Ottermione. It was my night on patrol," Severus reasoned.

Minerva shrugged. "I will admit, I slept very well that night. I tend to with the little personal heater nearby."

Severus said nothing, but he nodded. His sleep, too, had vastly improved with the squeaky bundle of warm fur that liked to join him at night. Technically, she had her own apprentice quarters that was linked to both Severus' and Minerva's rooms thanks to the magic of Hogwarts, but more often than not, just as he was drifting off to sleep, the warm press of whiskers and fur snuggled under his chin and slept beside him. The both of them had long since stopped trying to discourage her. The dejected look two chocolate brown otter eyes were capable of melted away all resistance either of them had in seconds.

The only people her ottery wiles didn't seem capable of charming were her biological parents. While Minerva held some hope that one day, her parents would be able to accept Hermione back into their life, Severus knew it wasn't likely. Much like the parents of werewolves, some Muggle parents just couldn't accept what magic was able to do. They either overcompensated by being overly protective or understanding, or they did what Hermione's had done: rejected that form of reality. It was one thing to send your child off to a magical boarding school when you realised that your son or daughter was floating toys to themselves and moving things with their mind, but when your daughter came back on all fours, covered in fur, sported webbed feet, and came equipped with a perfectly functional muzzle and a utilitarian tail, things tended to go pear-shaped in the parent-child relationship department. Had it been Draco coming back transformed into an animal, Lucius would have rolled his eyes and told the Headmaster that he didn't care if his son had to attend class as a hedgehog as long as he passed his O.W.L.s. Magical families knew magic happened. It would have made a lovely bumper sticker for a Muggle car, if Severus had one. Maybe he would have one made and stick it on Arthur's flying car.

Thankfully, Hermione demonstrated her resilience time and time again, and what she didn't receive from her parents, she made up for in brokering allies throughout the magical world. Minerva still harboured her hopes, but Severus was a realist. He knew first hand what happened when a parent rejected a child who tapped into the magical world. He knew what happened when one parent was caught between the love of their child and commitment to their life partner. He didn't think Hermione's case was exactly like his. Her parents had loved her even knowing she was a witch. What they hadn't been able to handle was their daughter becoming an otter and that somehow, both the Headmaster and her professors seemed to think that it wasn't an "unacceptable" condition.

Minerva let out a whole-hearted laugh as Ottermione and Draco raced up the beach to dump their catched spoils. Draco had an armful of clams, and Hermione had managed to bag a very large crab. Both were struggling not to lose their prize as they carried it, and each dropped their prizes into the holding basket Severus had sitting out under a beach umbrella. As Draco dumped the clams into the holding container, Ottermione pounced on the boy, knocking him prone into the sand. She squeaked victoriously, and rolled over on him a few times, wriggling.

Draco sputtered, laughing, and tickled her, causing the otter-witch to squeak and writhe until she slapped Draco upside the face with her rear flippers. Draco glared at her, but she squeaked cutely at him, causing him to chase her down the beach once more.

Severus snorted, eyeing the growing container of seafood. "This should fetch some nice galleons for her education and project fund."

"Aren't her supplies and fees paid up above and beyond at this point?" Minerva asked with a chuckle. "Between the seafood business and the educational otter ambassador tours?"

Severus gave a smug smile. "Don't forget the extra money she's getting for letting the Wizarding archaeologists poke and prod her cave lion form."

"Didn't you give them enough things to poke and prod, Severus?" Minerva asked, arching one brow.

"I appear to be a male of the species, Minerva," Severus said with a sniff. "Hermione offered the other side of that spectrum."

McGonagall snorted and then chuckled. "I feel as though there is some trickster god out there, laughing at how absurd it is to keep transforming the poor girl into so many different forms, yet none of them are human."

Snape shrugged. "Lupin is sad that there is one more giant cat that can sit on him during full moons."

Minerva snorted. "Serves him right for giving Hermione wings."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Of all the asinine things to give a mischievous otter. Let's give her wings! Better! Let's somehow make the spell so it's permanent! At least you gave them a taste of their own medicine teaching her how to be a mail courier."

Minerva grinned slyly. "I do like practical."

"You're practically Slytherin," Severus noted. "There are scales under that fur of yours."

The Scottish witch snickered. She looked out towards the surf and smiled. Draco and Hermione were dragging back another haul of seafood. Hermione was running around Draco's legs in an attempt to trip him up.

"I think it's time we dried off the children and went to dinner," Minerva suggested. "We can deliver the haul to your friend in London and dine in. Hermione loves it there. It's one of the few places that do not mind catering to an otter."

Severus nodded as he scooped up his squirming and squeaking familiar. "Time for dinner, menace."

Hermione squeaked excitedly and slapped her webbed paw against Snape's nose with a splat.

Snape sighed at her and pointed his wand at her, instantly drying her off into floofy grandeur.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Ottermione had her own desk in every classroom. No one really complained because the desk wasn't made for a human. It had a small staircase she could climb up and watch the goings on. In the potion classroom, it was equipped with her personal potion set Snape had custom ordered for her from the shops in Diagon Alley. Everything was made so they could be easily manipulated with paws and teeth, so no one had a use for it but her, unless they wanted to start potion making with their face. She had her communication slate, enchanted quills, and her otter-sized notebooks.

Her fellow students had long since resigned to the fact that more often than not, the otter in the class would be waving her paw high in the air to answer questions long before they knew the answer. In Severus and Minerva's classes, however, it was the unspoken rule that she wasn't allowed to answer questions for points as she had a distinctive unfair advantage, but that didn't stop her from answering questions just to answer questions.

To keep her from helping out her friends unfairly, Severus and Minerva would keep her on task by having her as a sort of teaching assistant, assisting them instructing on proper method, measuring, posture, and the like under the blanket that she was their apprentice. That was her job. Minerva privately confessed at the faculty meetings that nothing was more adorable than Ottermione trying to teach a slouch how to use proper posture. Having a child try to imitate an otter was worth every moment. Even more comical was that Ottermione had the same fierce look Minerva did when looking down her spectacles at a student, and she wasn't above whapping a student upside the head like Snape and scowling at them down her muzzle much as Snape did down his aquiline nose.

Albus had made the comment, after watching Ottermione in action, that maybe Hermione was paying too much attention to her dual masters. She was picking up their habits in an almost eerie way. Yet, when Ottermione accepted his lemon drop at the next meeting in his office, all was forgiven and forgotten, and nothing more was said over it.

Dumbledore zero—Ottermione something off the charts, but who was counting?

-o-o-o-o-o-

Years passed, and by the time Hermione's third year at Hogwarts arrived, Hermione had chosen Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as her electives as well as indulging her curiosity about magical creatures with Hagrid. Severus wasn't sure if Hermione was more curious about Hagrid's height and bushy beard or his actual class. Silvanus Kettleburn had retired with what remained of his limbs, leaving Rubeus Hagrid as the new professor for Care of Magical Creatures.

Hermione being spell-flung out the window of the Divination Tower had resulted in a near-death experience, and it had left Trelawney a laundry list of people who thought she was utterly mad and homicidal. Dumbledore moved the Divination classroom to the ground floor after that debacle, and brought in Firenze from the centaur herd to share in Divination teaching. Trelawney's complaints fell upon deaf ears, and many of the other professors asked Dumbledore what had inspired him to hire the woman in the first place.

Dumbledore could only say that her family had strong Seer blood, and he had hoped it would serve Trelawney well. He was, admittedly, disappointed to be wrong. Dumbledore had raised the question as to what the old Divination Tower could be used for, but the situation was swiftly taken out of his hands.

Fawkes, in true flamboyant phoenix fashion, decided it was time to attract a mate. He sang from atop the tower for a week, inspiring all who listened with joy. Then, one day, there were two. A month or so after that, there were more than two. Fawkes, being the exceptional singer he was, had attracted a harem of females, and within a few months there were many nests, and even more importantly nests full of fluffy phoenix chicks. Since phoenixes were a rare and protected species, the Board of Governors could not have them moved out, and Hogwarts Divination Tower became Hogwarts Phoenix Tower and Preserve.

Trelawney, with no way to get back to "her tower," was resigned to the ground floor Divination classroom henceforth. Secretly, the staff and students whispered it was much better with phoenixes in the tower than Trelawney, but none of them said it to her face.

Dumbledore, with a little help from Hogwarts, made the Phoenix Tower and Preserve into an aviary and observatory where students from all the houses could come and watch the phoenixes raise their chicks, study, and socialise together. Nothing seemed to inspire solidarity like watching adult phoenixes stuff their fluffy lintball chicks full of fruit, and Hogwarts managed to get quite a bit of extra funding due to the phoenix habitat. Everyone won except for Trelawney.

By the time the third year passed, which everyone had dubbed the Year of the Phoenix, Fawkes was the most famous poster-phoenix of Britain, and all Dumbledore could say about it was, "Lemon drop?"

The fourth year was the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and when the giant ship from Durmstrang surfaced in the Black Lake, and the carriage pulled by flying horses arrived from Beauxbatons, the school was soon alive with chatter and activity.

The flaming goblet held the names of all those of age to participate, and one name from each school was chosen to represent their school for honour, glory, and fame.

Many curious heads turned to stare at the otter at the Head Table. Many assumed Hermione was someone's familiar, and in that they were not entirely incorrect. It took a few days for the truth of who and what Hermione was to spread through the different schools, and Hermione seemed a bit uncomfortable with the added scrutiny. When too many stares came her way, Severus or Minerva would scoop her up and carry her off with them, allowing her a reprieve from the curious gazes.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Everywhere he goes, mate," Ron commented as he sat on the shore with Harry. "There is like a gaggle of girls following him."

"Aren't you the one who wants his autograph?" Harry asked, skipping a stone across the lake's surface. "There is that certain action figure."

Ron flushed red to complement his hair. "You saw him fly and play at the World Cup. He's amazing."

"He's single," Harry commented smoothly.

"Not that kind of amazing!" Ron said, making a choking sound.

"Just putting it out there, mate," Harry mentioned.

Ron seemed to focus on getting his breathing under control. "I'm with Lavender, anyway," he said after a while.

Harry arched a brow. "Wasn't Lavender in that gaggle of girls that just went by—"

"Shut it," Ron snapped.

Harry slid his eyes to look in another direction, grunting noncommittally.

"You ask anyone to the ball?" Ron asked after a while.

Harry shook his head adamantly. "I take one look at a girl and I forget their name. Hell, I forget my name too."

"Yeah," Ron commented. "I get it. Lavender actually asked me, so I didn't have to."

"Good for her," Harry chuckled. "Take initiative."

Ron sighed. "Though, I think if she got Viktor Krum to agree, she'd go with him."

Harry snorted. "Good luck with that."

"How so?" Ron asked.

Harry furrowed his brows together. "I think the last thing Viktor Krum wants is to be the Bulgarian Seeker, star athlete, and the host of other things everyone says he is."

"You're saying he doesn't want to be famous?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "Sometimes, I think people want to be known for who they really are."

"The best Quidditch Seeker in the world, mate," Ron justified.

Harry rubbed his temples. "Yeah, sure, mate."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The sun was dipping under the horizon as Ottermione surfaced near the shore of the Black Lake. She tilted her head as she heard muttering near the bank. Curiosity, bane of otters everywhere, drew her closer to shore.

"Will not cheat," the voice muttered. "Win because of skill."

She swam closer, flicking her rear feet to propel her forward like a sleek torpedo.

"Karkaroff idiot," the voice said bitterly. "Cheating follow you for life. Stain you forever." The voice spat out a chain of language Hermione did not know.

A rock landed a foot away from where Hermione was lurking, startling her. She let out a surprised squeak, and shot away from the shore in the growing dimness.

" _Sŭzhalyavam!_ " the voice said, distorted by the water around Hermione's ears. " _Sŭzhalyavam_ … sorry. Sorry!"

Hermione popped her head back up out of the water, looking back towards the shore.

"Am sorry. Please," the voice said. "Come back?"

Hermione flicked her rear feet and glided closer.

The figure sighed. "Temper make me throw things. Sorry. Did not see you."

Hermione slid onto the shore on her belly and eyed the figure curiously. His dark hair and dark eyes were screamingly different from the majority of Hogwarts, making him almost exotic to behold. His voice, heavy with an accent, was a low rumble compared to the higher pitched male voices that her otter ears were forced to listen to. This particular person's voice, much like Severus, had a deeper timbre to it. It was pleasing.

" _Zdraveĭ,_ " the young man said. He sat down on the shore to make himself smaller. "Hello."

Hermione squeaked a greeting.

"I am Viktor," he said softly, extending his hand to her.

Hermione slinked forward and placed one webbed paw on his hand. She squeaked at him, making a few sounds that resembled a balloon being rubbed.

Viktor smiled. "You must be Lady Hermione," he said gently, his voice a purr. "I have heard great many things about you."

Hermione squeaked a reply, staring up at his face.

"All good, no fear," he said with a smile. "They say you have two masters. Much respect for fine witch who impressed two such as Mistress and Professor McGonagall and Master and Professor Snape."

Hermione squeaked sadly, hanging her head.

Viktor tilted his head. "With permission?" he asked, extending his arms.

Hermione bumped his hand with her head, giving her permission.

Viktor put his hands around her and pulled her into his lap. "My people have story. Once, great wizard king was loved by people but not his family. He become cursed, forced to live life as shark in seas for many years. Many tried to break curse. None succeeded. People still loved king. Refused to accept new one. Family angry that shark was king while their sons gained nothing. Mother, father felt shamed that son was shark. They disowned him. Still, people not accept new king."

Viktor looked out over the Black Lake, silent.

Hermione bumped into his hand, and he continued his story. He soothed her damp fur with his hand. "Then, one day, mother of king show up on shore of great ocean on day of king's birthday. She cried tears into the sea and begged forgiveness. She loved her son despite her words previous. She wished to hold him again."

Viktor stared towards the Durmstrang ship with his dark eyes. "King walk out of ocean. Embrace mother. Land had King again. Curse had lived too long. Made shark his true form. King could not stay human forever, but because of love of mother, curse was not whole anymore. He human part time. He shark other time. He lived as shark king. His kingdom ruled the seas in honour of him, and it is said… all his line lie testament to strength of shark king. All from him carry blessing of shark: tenacity, strength, courage. Also cursed with odd cravings for seafood."

Hermione made a chattering sound. She placed her paws on his hand and looked up at him warmly.

"Like story?" Viktor asked.

Hermione chirped, nodding her head.

Viktor tilted his head. "In my country, nod head up and down mean no, but I have feeling you mean yes."

Hermione chirped, moving her head side to side.

"Now you try to accommodate me and confuse me instead," Viktor laughed.

Hermione made a soft apologetic sigh.

"Thank you for listening to me," Viktor said with a smile. "Mean lot to me. _Blagodarya._ Thank you."

Hermione squeaked decisively.

Viktor rubbed behind her shoulder and caused Hermione to chatter and squeak in pleasure. She writhed, rubbing against his hand and made a sad, plaintive sound when he stopped. He spread his hands out. "Do not wish to presume familiarity. Apologise."

Hermione lay on her back and stuck her paws up in the air, exposing her belly in a shameless beg that replied, "By all means, presume familiarity, please."

Viktor gave her what seemed to be an almost shy smile as he gave in to her charms and rubbed her belly. She writhed against his touch and chattered happily.

As Viktor's black eyes met hers, Ottermione became a steadfast friend for life all for the price of a thrown rock, an apology, a story about a king become shark, and a skillful belly rub.

Later that evening, when Severus opened the door to his chambers and Ottermione jumped into his arms from none other than Viktor Krum's shoulder, the Potion Master raised the obligatory questioning eyebrow that was usually reserved for fathers interrogating their daughter's boyfriends about their intentions.

Viktor clicked his heels together, bowing his head. "Master and Professor Snape. Escort apprentice familiar back home safely in thanks for showing me around school.

Ottermione squeaked happily, pressing her nose against Snape's neck. Severus placed his hand on her warm side instinctively and closed his eyes a moment as his mind linked with hers.

"Thank you, Mr Krum," Severus said after a moment. "I hope you found Hogwarts to your liking."

Viktor raised his head and nodded once. "Better than arrived, _da_ ," he replied.

Snape gave a curt nod. "Good luck on your first task."

The Bulgarian Seeker smiled slightly. "Thank you. Will do best."

With that, he bowed respectfully, clicked his heels, and walked back down the corridor.

Severus turned to the otter on his shoulder. "I trust nothing happened that will require me to turn into a large, angry, prehistoric cat and sit on the most famous Bulgarian Seeker known to the Wizarding world?"

Hermione squeaked indignantly, pressing her paws to Snape's face, one paw practically shoving up his nostril.

Snape snorted, moving her into his arms and cradling her on her back as he closed the door. "Insufferable girl," he muttered, rubbing her belly as he walked.

Later, as sleep began to pull him under, there was a soft thud as something landed on his bed. Ottermione wriggled under his duvet and snuggled up against him. Her warm fur rubbed against his chest as whiskers snuffled his chin. He curved his arm around the young otter and let sleep claim him at last.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus noted a few changes after the night Viktor Krum delivered his familiar back to him that fateful night. One, his familiar seemed to have expanded her friend pool, and by befriending the Bulgarian Seeker, she gained a countless number of brothers. No one did solidarity like a Durmstrang, and despite Karkaroff's disapproving glare, Ottermione had gained the largest number of brothers in one night that had her the envy of just about every female with functioning hormones.

The Durmstrang crafted her a tiny fur hat and cape that made her into a miniature honorary Durmstrang, and Hermione spend much of her after study time when Minerva and Severus did not have tasks for her being snuggled in various laps at the guest tables. Severus was pretty sure that there were a number of Hogwarts and Beauxbaton girls that were going to form a line to be next to be transformed into a fuzzy, adorable mammal for that privilege alone.

If anyone had problems with Hermione, however, they had to get by all of her "brothers" and they seldom left her unguarded or unescorted. If anything, the Durmstrang treated Hermione like she not been treated by most of her fellows in Hogwarts: like a comrade. They treated her like a sister who just happened to lack vertical growth. They spoke to her like a person, taught her Slavic languages, and generally shamed some of the Hogwarts students that neglected to remember that there was a human witch under the thick fur and adorable eyes.

Severus knew, when the year was done, and the Durmstrang returned to their cold school in the north, Hermione would feel a loss she had never known. She wouldn't just be missing her friends, but she would be missing countless brothers. That time, however, was quite some time away, and both Severus and Minerva shared a chuckle when the knock at their chamber door would occur and Ottermione would perk up and give her masters such a plaintive look of hopefulness for permission to be released for the evening to go frolic.

Hermione wasn't above sharing , however, and she dragged Draco in to socialise with her adopted brothers. She tried to bring in Harry and Ron, but only Harry took her up on it. Ron flushed a strange shade of crimson when he realised where the otter was leading him, and turned tail and went the other direction.

Severus caught her standing on her rear feet, her front paws on her sides as she glowered down the hallway looking very much like a miniature furry Snape. She chattered angrily in otterese at him, and it didn't take a mind-link to know what she was cursing at him. He couldn't very well admonish her for foul language when no one but he knew what she was chattering, but a part of him was amused that she didn't stop thinking angry and indignant thoughts until Viktor came by, scooped her up, and carried her off to the Great Hall with him.

The first trial went exceedingly well. No one died, which was a miracle in itself. Fleur Delacour seemed completely prepared for the dragons, while Krum and Diggory seemed genuinely surprised. All did well. Cedric had lost a bit of his hair to the flames, Viktor had been thrown into a rock face before he could get off the spells he needed, but in the end, all three contestants managed to get their golden eggs. Minerva watched Hagrid's growing nonsensical demeanor around a certain Headmistress Madame Olympe Maxime and hypothesised that she knew exactly how Fleur Delacour knew about the dragons when the other two candidates did not. There was no way to prove it, but McGonagall was a cat. Lethal patience was a skill in her bones. Snape, too, harboured it as well.

The second trial had gone off without a hitch, save for the fact that the Headmaster had called Hermione to his office and she never came back to Snape orMcGonagall that evening. Both of them were at their wits end by morning until Albus told them she had been chosen as part of the trial. Minerva looked ready to punch the old goat, or at least scratch out his eyes. Albus was convinced there was nothing dangerous about it. All would be well, in his opinion. It had taken every bit of willpower on Snape's part not to go cave lion and do a little wizard sitting.

Viktor won the second trial with flying colours, having snatched up Hermione in a spectacular demonstration of the largest shark he had ever seen. He surfaced, his wide and toothy mouth agape, and Ottermione leapt out, frolicing in the water like being rescued by a giant shark was all in a day's normality.

Cedric came up next with Cho Chang, winning himself second place, but Fleur Delacour surfaced covered in grindylows, looking half-drowned and panicked. She managed to fend off the grindylows, but it didn't take much to realise she was beyond exhausted.

Ottermione slapped her rear feet on the surface of the water and chittered excitedly at Viktor, who gave her a nod. Viktor jutted his jaw out at Cedric, who seemed to understand the signal. In synchronisation, all three of them dove back under the water as Cho Chang and Fleur were pulled from the lake. Fleur was frantic, yelling out a chain of French in her panic.

Just as timer bell rang, Fleur was despondent and crying on the deck. Minutes passed, and a murmur of concern was rising in the crowd and the starting to worry the gathered officials. Then, in a giant splash, Viktor the giant shark surfaced with Cedric clinging to his dorsal fin. His arm was around a young blonde child. Clutched in the child's arms was Ottermione.

A great cheer rose up from the gathered.

" Gabrielle!" Fleur cried, engulfing the young girl in her arms. "My little sister. You are okay!"

Gabrielle smiled upon seeing a familiar face. The Bubble-head charm around her head dispelled with a pop, as Viktor used his large head to push Cedric up onto the deck. Cedric then reached down his arm to pull the now-human Viktor out of the water.

The crowd cheered loudly, the judges gestured wildly at each other. Madam Pomfrey was looking over each of the contestants to make sure all was well. Gabrielle refused to let go of Ottermione, clinging to her every time someone asked her to relinquish her death grip on the aquatic mammal.

Viktor was proclaimed the winner of the second trial, and everyone seemed blissfully agreeable over it. Viktor managed to charm Gabrielle into relaxing her hold on the squirmy otter in her arms, and Ottermione was paraded around Viktor's arms. He rose her high in the air and pumped his fist, causing the whole of Durmstrang to cheer their replies. When night came, and all the drama subsided, one tuckered out otter wriggled her way under the blankets of Snape's bed and burrowed into his arms.

As Snape's pale hand lay upon her head, his fingers tenderly rubbing her head-fur, he smiled, thankful for the peace in the aftermath of the second trial.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The full moon before Christmas had Ottermione racing Prongs through the forest like a mad thing, and Black and Lupin were both chasing after them, tongues lolling and tails held high. Severus stalked behind them, catlike, refusing to lower himself to rampant chasing through the Dark Forest.

Halfway through the night, they stumbled across a patrol of centaur led by none other than Bane—the sworn enemy to anything human, or at least he was on parchment.

The moment he saw Ottermione perched atop Prong's impressive antler rack, the centaur smiled and plucked her off, petting her on the head and rubbing her belly until she squeaked for mercy. The centaur watched Lupin with a pervasive calm, having known him to frolic the full moons in the forest since he was a "foal."

Bane, having been charmed by Ottermione the moment he caught her playing around his fishing nets back in her first year, had been one of her steadfast allies amongst the centaur people. She helped him untangle his lines from the weeds, drive fish into his nets, and check his crab traps without him having to pull them up. The highest honour he bestowed, however, was allowing her to ride upon his back, which she did with no small amount of wonder.

The centaur called her Webfoot, and they had adopted her into the herd as one of their own. Bane was her centaur-father, and she single-handedly saved Firenze from a lifetime of scorn from his herd when Dumbledore came to lure him off to teach Divination by squeaking so imperiously from Bane's back that Magorian forgot all the reasons he was yelling at Firenze in the first place. From that point on, she was known as Webfoot the Diplomat, and all the centaur took turns carrying her around on their backs as they went about their chores in the forest.

What fascinated Severus the most was that none of the centaur seemed to have a problem understanding her. At first he thought the young foals were guessing at what Ottermione was saying with her squeaks and chirps, but he had begun to suspect they truly did understand her sounds as language. While he understood her thanks to the bond they shared, he realised they did too. She would squeak at them as they lay by the fire resting, and they would scoop her up, whoop, and race down towards the shore to dig up clams by her signal alone.

" Why the confused look, Severus?" Bane had asked him.

" They seem to understand her," Severus had replied.

" Of course we do," Bane said with a blink. "You do, after all."

Severus frowned. "She uses a slate to speak with most people, Bane. They do not understand her as I do."

Bane took his turn being confused. "She's perfectly understandable," he said after a moment. "It's why Magorian let Firenze teach at Hogwarts. She told him 'it was about time some sanity was taught for Divination at Hogwarts, and it sure wasn't being done by godawful Trelawney. At least with Firenze teaching, students have a chance at learning something useful as well as learning that centaur are not just mindless beasts running around the forest scaring children'."

Severus had sputtered, making a face.

"You doubt me?" Bane had asked.

"No," Severus said, shaking his head. " That sounds like our Ottermione."

"She made a convincing argument," Bane had replied, shaking his head. "I figured you had put her up to it. You've known Firenze for years."

Severus shook his head. "She did that on her own."

"Webfoot the Diplomat is a fitting name then," Bane chuckled. "My fuzzy web-footed daughter."

"Ironic that she finds so many allies, yet her birth parents will not accept her," Severus replied.

Bane frowned. "It is unspeakable for a sire and dam to reject their foal. How is this possible?"

"Tell me truthfully, Bane," Severus asked. "Would you care for Hermione so much had she not come to you as an otter first?"

Bane pondered silently. "If her human self acts as she does with webbed feet, I have a feeling I would have had no choice in the matter. It may have taken more time to get over her being fully human, but it would have happened none the same."

"Her birth parents could not accept that their human daughter had become something so foreign to them," Severus explained. "They are not magical. They had already faced a shock finding out their child was magical Then, not even a year after they allowed her to attend a magical school, she was transformed and it may very well be permanent."

Bane frowned and snorted. "If my foal were transformed into something non-centaur, I am not sure how I would react," he said honestly. "Foals are to be treasured and loved for they are rare. It would be tragic to lose one in any fashion."

Severus nodded. "Minerva hopes that her parents will come to regret their shunning her and open their hearts to her again."

"You are not so hopeful?" Bane asked.

"My father was horrible man and a drunk," Severus said. "There was not one day he did not blame that upon me for being born a freak."

"Our people were once drunkards and blasphemers all," Bane said. "Only the wisdom of the great Chiron brought us wisdom and temperance. Sometimes we like to forget that we were once as savage and brutal as the human tales remember us. I think that is why Webfoot convinced Magorian that Firenze was a positive influence on Hogwarts if he were allowed to teach."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Does the old goat realise that the only reason Firenze wasn't ostracized from the herd was because of her?"

"Nay, Severus," Bane whickered. "As you said, apparently most humans cannot understand her."

"Probably for the best," Snape reasoned.

There was a loud roar of laughter and giggles as the foals returned, hauling a large crab trap full of crabs between them. They returned victorious, bringing their hard-won prizes to the camp. The mares took the offerings up quickly, setting to work in making sure everything was prepared before it could spoil.

Bane plucked Hermione off one of the colts' backs and snuffled her, rubbing her belly tenderly before handing her off to Severus. He fished a few large crabs out from the trap and gave them to Severus as well. Ottermione squeaked happily and placed her paws against Bane's face.

"Be well, Webfoot," he crooned. "I will see you soon."

Hermione squeaked decisively.

They had left the centaur, crabs in hand, but they visited the forest often. Three times a month because of Lupin's nocturnal activities, and other times because keeping Ottermione out of the forest where Bane and the centaur foals were was like asking her not to like seafood.

Bane and the patrol he was leading during the winter full-moon were dressed in their winter furs. Their equine pelts were thick with their winter coats, and their human halves were layered to keep them from the cold.

"Hello, Webfoot," Bane crooned. "What have you brought us today? Have you steered dinner to our fire or help in catching it?"

Prongs snorted, giving the centaur a glare.

"He looks too old and gamey to eat," Bane chuckled, baiting James.

Prongs sulked at being called old.

Lupin, on the other hand, wagged his tail and whined.

"Ah, I see," Bane chuckled. "I suppose eating your friends is bad form."

Lupin wagged his tail furiously.

Bane smiled and replaced Ottermione on Prong's head. "Be wary of the western forest. There is a hunting party of non-magicals searching the forest for a lost hiker. Had they been magicals, we would have offered aid, but they are not. We cannot afford to be seen. Magorian has sent word to the human Wizarding authorities."

Ottermione squeaked at him.

Bane nodded. "Have fun. Be safe."

Prongs bounded off into the forest, Lupin and Black following behind.

Severus sighed, shaking his feline head.

Bane chuckled. "Always the responsible one, aren't you Severus?"

Snape gave a low rumbling huff and padded off into the Dark Forest, following the trail of smashed vegetation caused by Potter's frolicking.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The Yule Ball had Minerva in a hustle of activity teaching her cubs how to dance like a proper Gryffindor. Severus wasn't sure what proper Gryffindor dancing was, but thankfully most of Slytherin knew how to dance thanks to their families. There was the awkward moment when Draco had to teach Crabbe and Goyle how not to insult their house at the Yule Ball by dancing like drunken chimpanzees on a sugar high trying to ride alligators through a china shop.

Severus had the sneaky suspicion that it would end with them looking like well-dressed drunken chimpanzees on a sugar high trying to ride alligators through a china shop instead, but there was always room for a Yuletide miracle.

Ottermione was dressed in her holiday best. Minerva had given her tiny decorative bracelets and a tail streamer that jingled as she bounced. Otters bounced quite a bit, Severus noted, and Hermione ended up jingling her own version of Carol of the Bells just by moving from place to place.

Much to the surprise and envy of many a girl, when the three Tri-Wizard champions came out with their dates, Viktor came in with Ottermione bouncing beside him. He danced the waltz while holding her in the air until she seemed to remember she had wings, and then she flew circles around him as he laughed heartily.

Severus shook his head when the Headmaster dragged Minerva onto the dance floor. He watched Hagrid's awkward attempt to lure Olympe Maxime to dance with him, and he desperately tried not to vomit. Watching Karkaroff's even more awkward stiff dancing with Septima Vector made him avert his gaze even more. He remembered Karkaroff from Lucius' list of "people you should avoid when you want not to be accused of being a loser Death Eater follower of that maniac that wanted to take over the world and ended up killing himself," and he wasn't about to make nice with him. He'd obviously finagled his way into the High Master position at the Durmstrang Institute, but Severus knew the Dark sort of trouble when he felt it, and Karkaroff had that feel about him. It was paranoia—the kind of thing where a man would always be looking over his shoulder for next usurper, betrayer, and supplicant with grander designs. It was a horrible way to live.

Severus would rather be looking out for the stupid pranks of Potter and his well-meaning friends or the likes of Fred and George Weasley than the kind of thing Karkaroff probably dealt with on a daily basis. That kind of paranoia had to be a silent killer, draining away all possibility of having a normal life.

Suddenly, there was a jingly otter in his face, and Ottermine squeaked at him, fluttering her wings as she did loops in the air. She was obviously on a mission, and she tugged on his high collar and then his unkempt and unfestive hair to lead him towards the dance floor.

People were staring, and he swallowed hard. How was one supposed to dance inconspicuously with an otter?

Answer? You didn't. Everyone was watching whether you realised it or not.

Viktor Krum was eying him with amusement. He bowed his head respectfully, extending his hand in a "well, go on," gesture.

With great discomfort, he extended his hand around Hermione's warm furry body and began to dance. By the end, she was cuddled up against his robes, squeaking happily as she snuffled her whiskers into his chin. When the music ended, she licked his nose and jingled off across the dance floor to return to Viktor, who captured her in his arms with a laugh and carried her off to the refreshment table.

Minerva was smiling at him when we went back to his place by the wall. Severus tried to glare at her, but it was no use. She knew how proud he was of Hermione. She also knew that he'd do just about anything for Her Royal Squeakiness, and that included being seen dancing with her at the Yule Ball.

Later, Ottermione shared a dance with Minerva too, and the amused elder witch made it look like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bloody Gryffindor show off. To top off the list of things that made Snape want to facepalm was Dumbledore cutting in, and taking Hermione on an elaborate waltz across the floor. Minerva was laughing as she watched the elder wizard dancing with the flying otter, and Severus was fairly certain that someone somewhere had a camera and it was going to show up in the morning paper.

 **Headmaster of Hogwarts steals dance from Bulgarian Seeker Tri-Wizard Contestant! Krum Heartbroken!**

Severus sighed. He would deal with that when it came. As it was, Molly and Arthur Weasley were hosting a belated Christmas celebration at the Burrow, and everyone was invited. Unfortunately that included him. He had hoped that he would be exempt considering it was the Tri-Wizard Tournament year and he and the majority of the related children were occupied with the Yule Ball, but Molly had insisted that there be a family celebration. By family she meant all of the families she could fit in the Burrow. As it was, Potter, Lupin, and Black were all planning a nice outing the night before the post-Christmas Christmas festivities were going down, so it was going to be doubly torturous for him. Minerva, the infuriating woman, had volunteered to take his patrols so he had nothing to anchor him to Hogwarts and allow him to make appropriate excuses as to why he regretfully couldn't attend. To top it all off, they made sure to invite Hermione, and well, he couldn't very well let her go without a guardian of some sort.

Worse still, he had the sinking suspicion that Potter's little cohorts were going to try and set him up with a date again, and every time that happened, it inevitably ended in disaster. One way or another, regardless of whether there was any potential in the latest candidate he had been set up with, when they met Hermione, they would invariably fail in some way. Either they would treat Hermione like she was a "normal animal," ask him to "send his familiar out of the way for awhile," or some other action that would set warning bells off in his mind. Hermione was with him for the long haul, and if whatever prospect for a relationship either couldn't get along with her or didn't want to take the time to get to know her as well as him, then he didn't want them anyway. Most of the time the entire exercise was pointless anyway. One look at his beak-like nose, unhealthy pallor, and dark scowl usually did in any prospects before they got past the first drink. Being de-aged hadn't improved any of those less-than-appealing qualities. .

He was exceedingly gifted in the area of driving away any woman who couldn't appreciate Ottermione as he could..

Lily told him that he just wasn't giving anyone a fair shake. He retorted with the standard reply that "shaking requires touch, and I don't even want to sit by most of these people let alone give them anything."

Severus had glared at Lily on many an occasion when she had tried to ream him out for not giving people a chance. She was hardly one to talk. She'd tried setting him up with Petunia once, back in his fourth year. Even James had accused her of being completely mental.

"No one," James had said, "is horrible enough to deserve Petunia."

He was proven wrong a number of years later when they all met Vernon Dursley.

Yet, as he stared across the dancing floor, watching Ottermione attempting to drink punch out of the goblet Viktor was holding out for her to drink from, he knew what was the most important thing in his life at that given moment. Right now, Hermione was happy, and that was good enough.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"So," James crooned as he sat down next to Severus and Remus with a couple mugs of butterbeer. "Severus." He said younger looking black-haired wizard's name with elongated syllables. "What are you going to do on your date?"

Dark black eyes bored into Potter's with a combined curl of the lip that oozed disdain. "I hardly think you plotting and scheming to get me to spend more than my obligatory social two minutes with some random female of the week a date, Potter."

Sirius snatched one of the butterbeers and quaffed it in about seven seconds flat and belched.

"Attractive, Black," Severus sneered. "Have we entered an unspoken contest on drunken eructation?"

Lupin grinned at him. "He's the ultimate example of male attractiveness, or so he would have you believe."

Snape rolled his eyes. "There is nothing attractive about Black, drunk or otherwise."

"Come on, Snape," Sirius moaned. "You are the lucky dog who got de-aged. It's not fair that you catch the eye of the young birds while the rest of us old-looking blokes barely get a second glance."

"You, Black," Snape answered blandly, "are the dog in this group. I am hardly trying to emulate you."

"Psh," Sirius huffed. "Overgrown prehistoric cat."

"Hn," Severus replied, sipping his beer.

"Boys, stop it," Lily admonished as she nestled in next to Severus, causing James to pout. "You are all practically primeval."

Remus shook his head. "We're all going to have to behave if Severus is going to have any shot at finding a good witch."

"It's not just us that needs to behave," James complained. "Every time we think there could be a chance, they never get past the Egyptian Scales of Justice."

Lily smacked James upside the head. "It's your own damn fault, James. You," Lily ranted, pointing her finger at the men gathered around them, "you, and you. You not only turned her into a miniature marauder, you gave her the wings that got her trained to be able to find people in order to deliver the mail. She's worse than a bloodhound, and she shows up like Mrs Norris exactly when you'd like privacy."

The Marauders pouted as Severus gave a half-smile into his beer.

"I think that wily little minx is learning how to stalk the hallways from both Severus and Mrs Norris," Remus commented. "Harry tells me that she and Mrs Norris play in the halls, chasing each other and 'stumble across' them when they shouldn't'."

Severus arched a brow. "By 'when they shouldn't' you mean when they should be back in their common room past curfew?"

Remus slumped. "What good is teaching her to have fun when you use her as an agent to catch loiterers and supposed miscreants in the halls?"

Snape quirked the sides of his mouth. "She is having fun."

Lupin smacked his forehead with his palm and sighed.

Lily shook her head. "She's doing her job, thanks to our son's part in helping Neville Longbottom turn her into an otter. As Sev's familiar, it's her job to be his eyes and ears."

"His eyes and ears are suspicious enough as it is!" James complained with Sirius nodding in fervent agreement.

Lily rolled her eyes. "You're just upset that Sev and McGonagall counter your mischief by making her useful. If you've ever seen otters in the wild or even at the zoo, you'd realise they need a lot of stimulation to stay healthy."

"Oh, and I suppose you have, Lils?" Sirius lamented.

Lily nodded. "Mum and dad used to take us to the zoo a lot when I was little. Things have changed since back when I was a kid though. Now, zookeepers are all about making realistic habitats and enriching the animal's environment so the animals stay healthy."

"Never been to a zoo," James confessed.

"I'm sure there is a game preserve that would love to have you, Potter," Snape sniped.

"I hardly think that's the same—hey!" James responded indignantly.

Lily, Remus, and Sirius giggled at James' expense.

"Real otters and young witches masquerading as otters are different, Lils," Sirius interjected, as if trying to save what was left of James' face from ridicule. "Every time we think we have a keeper for Sev, they meet Hermione and it all goes to Hades."

"Don't you go blaming that sweet witch for women who get caught trying to use him for their own ends," Lily said with a scowl. "She's not the only one who can smell a rat."

"They were perfectly respectable—" Sirius began.

"I've seen the kind of respectable you've brought home, Sirius Black," Lily testified, "and I don't see you married."

"That's different," Sirius protested.

Multiple eyes stared at Sirius.

Black slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Worse than trying to win an argument with my Slytherin brother."

Severus arched an eyebrow as Remus whapped Sirius over the head with his palm.

"Ow! Abuse!" Sirius whined. "What was that for?"

"Don't be bad-talking your brother, Sirius," Remus admonished. "He's a good bloke."

"A bloody Hit Wizard," Sirius bemoaned. "Mum and dad seem to think he's making up for our family's tarnished honour from even thinking Tom Riddle was onto something by murdering Dark Wizards in cold blood."

"Sirius Black," Lily threatened, "he saved your life more than once—"

"Seven times, actually," James interjected, earning him a glare from Sirius.

Lily grunted. "He deserves more respect from you. He's never said a bad thing about you that wasn't blatantly true."

" What do you—" Sirius began.

Multiple glares came back at him. He hushed himself as he mumbled under his breath about it being so much easier when there was a clear enemy to be picked on like Snape.

That earned him another swat from Lily.

Snape, who had remained silent for most of the conversation, had a small smile forming on his lips at Black's being dressed down in front of his friends.

Lupin, however, seemed to realise the conversation had been derailed. He nudged Snape on the arm. "Hey. I know you're not the dating sort, but I'm starting to think you enjoy the fact that Hermione judges every one of your potentials as being rubbish.

Snape slid his eyes over Lupin, one eyebrow lifting into his hair. "If they cannot live with Hermione, they will be doubly disappointed living with me."

Remus snorted. "Sometimes I think the only one you are meant to be with is her, Severus," he confessed. "One day, perhaps, in that distant future, all those barriers you'd like to think are there won't be there anymore."

Severus eyed Remus with a suspicious eyebrow.

Lupin waved his hand as if to placate. "Some things are meant to be. There are some people that are simply compatible. I believe that. I believe that three horrible Potions students created an accident that was fated to happen. In that moment, two hearts were bound together." Remus stared into the nearby fire and then looked back at Severus. "As long as she exists upon this earth, Severus, and as long as you are her sun and moon, there will be no others for either of you. Call it whatever you wish. Dismiss it however you like, but I think there isn't enough room in that heart of yours for anyone else than a certain fuzzy, squeaky, and mischievous creature that is already living there."

Severus met Remus' gaze but said nothing.

"Oi, Severus," Sirius grunted, butting into Remus and Severus' somewhat one-sided conversation. "Why is it you never get drunk?"

"Perhaps, I wish to enjoy my evening rather than be reminded why my father was a drunken bastard," Snape answered, his face stoic.

Sirius paled. "I'm sorry, Severus. I keep forgetting that—"

Snape held up his hand, fingers fanned. "I am not my father. There are many, I am sure, that are thankful for this."

Lily shuddered. "I am, and I'll vouch for that. Trust me on that."

Sirius' face was sober. "I know what it's like to be trapped in the shadow of your horrible family.

Severus looked up and nodded grimly. "Your brother is not your father and mother, Black. He may placate their favour for your sake, but that does not make him the enemy."

Sirius sighed and nodded. "I know. I know. Part of me has always known that. I don't know why it makes me so angry that he can live such a double life and still be a good person."

"He was in Slytherin, Black," Severus noted, still uncomfortable calling Sirius by his first name despite the fact all of the Marauders had long since started to call him by his. "It was all about putting on a face while thinking something else."

Sirius gave a grim nod. "You're right. I think I'm just jealous that he has his own bed at St Mungo's."

"Of all the things to be jealous of," Lily groaned, rolling her eyes. "You've always been trying to outdo your little brother since… I don't think you ever weren't trying to outdo him, and he was one year younger than you. Why is that?"

"It's a Black thing," Sirius said with a forced smile.

"To hell with your Black 'thing'," James said. "You've always said your family preached rubbish anyway. Why hold to that old way when you're snubbed all the others."

Sirius hung his head like a scolded dog. "I don't know. Maybe I feel like if I don't hold on to something that I'm not my own person."

"Mate," James muttered. "You are far from not being your own person, so you need to stop that right now." He slapped Sirius on the back. "Ugh, and you need to take a bath. You smell like the bottom of a bottle with a pint of arse thrown in."

"Wet dog," Remus added. "Hey, Severus. Where is our mascot?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't worry," James crooned. "I took care of it. Severus has a free night with us."

Severus looked suspicious immediately. "What did you do to my familiar, Potter?"

Lily had her hands on her hips. "James?"

"All the children are supposed to be asleep, but just in case Molly and Arthur fall asleep at the wheel, I hid all the real presents and put decoys under the tree," James explained. "They are charmed so the wrapping paper will just reveal more wrapping paper underneath."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What kind of present?"

"Big, shiny, and wrapped! You know, the typical Christmas fare!" James justified.

"James," Lily said carefully. "If you moved all the other presents, what did you leave under the tree?"

Remus seemed to realise something and narrowed his eyes. "What did you put in them, James?"

"Nothing!" James protested. "It will keep them busy for the night and we won't have to worry about them opening their real presents! It's not like they will get to the center and realise there is nothing in them. We'll have the whole night—"

Severus was gone in a swirl of black fabric. Shortly after, there was the crack of an Apparate.

Sirius slammed his head against his butterbeer mug.

"What?" James protested.

"Mate, sometimes, I swear to Merlin, you'd forget your head if it wasn't fixed to your neck," Sirius grunted.

James rubbed his nose. "Alright, tell me what I missed."

Remus patted James' hand with his. "Hermione."

Lily shook her head. "Never underestimate an otter on a mission."

It was then that the Marauders' sad attempt to hook up Severus with yet another date failed as the aforementioned date arrived at the table too late.

James, Sirius, and Remus groaned as they slammed their heads against the pub table together. Lily shrugged and handed the confused-looking witch a butterbeer.

"Happy Christmas!" Lily said with a disarming smile. "I'm afraid Sev had something come up. Please, join us for a drink!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus arrived just in time to scoop up his familiar into his arms as she was leading the way to what must have been James Potter's oh-so-secret hiding place for the real presents.

Hermione gave an indignant squeak as he snuggled her to him and gave the other children his patented and trademarked scowl that sent them packing back to their beds to sleep. He tried to scowl at Hermione as well, but she was immune to his rancor. She let him know just how much by snuffling his face and tickling him with her whiskers.

"Miscreant," he admonished. "You know you have an unfair advantage."

Hermione gave a few squeaking noises akin to rubbing a balloon against a sweater. She radiated smugness that Snape realised she had learned by hanging around him for so many years. He smiled at her. It was a special smile.

"Come, Your Squeakiness," he said with a gentle tone. "Time for little otters to be in bed. You should at least give Potter time to move all the presents back under the tree and pretend he wasn't such a failure at life."

Hermione chattered, making silly noises as she wiggled against Snape's chest. Snape found his mind inundated with mischievous logic.

"I'm sure that's the Marauder Creed," Snape replied with a sigh. "However, I don't think they ever expected it to be used against themselves."

Hermione made a disappointed sound, hanging her head in defeat.

Snape laid his hand across her head and stroked her back, and she perked back up, snuggling into his hand with a happy squeak.

Severus carried his content familiar in his arms as he trudged back through the Burrow. He rolled his eyes as he saw the living room filled with magically replicated wrapping paper—a testament to Potter's supposition that it would keep the children busy instead of having them opening their real presents. What James never quite seemed to remember, despite the fact that he had his own hand in training Hermione to stick her nose into everything, was that Hermione was more cunning and intuitive than the average witch, and she was definitely the epitome of fine otter curiosity and mischief combined.

Hermione was, after all, the only one who could find all of Lily's cookie and chocolate hiding places. She had even found Potter's misplaced Gringotts key in a crack in the floor, and she had managed to deliver Molly's howler to Ronald Weasley when he had gone on a joy ride with Harry in his father's magical car. The boy had been hidden away with Potter's son, Harry, in a Muggle supermarket thinking they were so very clever. Not only had Hermione found them, she had delivered said howler with the tenacity of an Owl Post owl, dropped it into his hands, and then, with Severus' flair for the dramatic, apparated into thin air before anyone was the wiser. It had left the two boys stuffing the howler into their sweaters and running out the market to keep from exposing the enchanted paper message to the entire Muggle populace.

With such acts of subterfuge already under her belt, Christmas presents were not getting by her. What each Marauder didn't seem to realise was that every one of them had "secretly taught Hermione everything they knew." Every one of them, from Lupin to Black, had pulled Hermione to the side for one reason or another to teach her "life skills." Lupin, to his credit, taught her how to avoid trouble much as he had gotten Snape out of trouble with Potter so many years ago. Sirius taught her pranks in hopes of getting under Snape's skin, but she had practiced her skill on Potter instead. Potter taught her in order to retaliate, and then she practiced those new skills back on Sirius. Snape found the entire thing utterly amusing. Part of him thought it was karma coming back to visit them for all their pranks as teenagers.

Snape trudged up the stairs and tucked Hermione in, whiskers to tail, shaking his head with amusement as she rolled on her back and begged pathetically for a belly rub. He obliged her with a quirk of his lips. "I'll see you in the morning, menace," he reassured her, bending down to press a light kiss upon her forehead. Hermione squeaked and snuggled into the pillow as he pulled the comforter over. He stayed until she was asleep, knowing that if he didn't, she'd just follow him out the room.

Snape yawned and trudged back downstairs, finding the couch Molly had set aside for him. Unlike the guest beds, Severus knew this particular couch was the comfiest place to sleep thanks to Fred and George having being forced to "sit on the couch" as punishment for countless deeds. They had enchanted the couch to be extremely comfortable. Their avoidance of "punishment" ended when Molly realised that her two boys enjoyed sitting on the couch far too much, and she had changed their punishments to involved manual labour.

Severus unfastened his many, many buttons, took off his surcoat and robes, and lay them on the nearby chair. He fluffed the provided pillow Molly had left for him, and settled in for the night, privately thankful that he'd avoided having to suffer through yet another deplorable date set-up thanks to the oh-so-helpful Trio of Trouble.

Despite the comfortable accommodations, Severus found it hard to get to sleep. He knew it wasn't some secret excitement over it being the belated Christmas eve. He hadn't had that in all the years he'd been alive, thanks to his father. He stared into the lights of the nearby Christmas tree, watching the charmed wisps flit about the branches. Despite being warm, fed, and completely free of his father's drunken Christmas escapades, something was missing.

His hearing focused on the familiar thump, thump, thump of pairs of paws hitting the wooden surface of the stairs. It was the distinctive not-a-cat sound, but one he knew like the sound of his own footfalls.

There was a dull thud, some squeaking, and a warm nose and whiskers against his chin shortly after as Hermione snuggled against him, yawned, stretched, and went still against him. She was seemingly asleep in seconds, and he felt a warm blanket of contentment fill his mind.

A small smile played about his lips. He should have known she wouldn't sleep for long without him near. Ever since a certain young otter had become his familiar, she had slept with him nearby, either in the adjoining room or snuggled against him in her otter form. He admitted, at least to Minerva, that he had come to sleep better when she was near. His eyelids grew heavy, and he was asleep soon after, his momentary disquiet forgotten as he and his familiar joined each other in sleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Otters were, Snape realised, perfectly set up to exude their own force of gravity. Much like the comfy chair or couch, warm bed in the mornings, and comfortable reading chair in his chambers, he found himself very hard pressed to extricate himself from the warmth of one fuzzy otter snuggling up to him under the quilt.

At least when he was at Hogwarts, they had a routine. Ottermione would be up at the crack of dawn, tugging the quilt away from him as she tugged on his slippers and wrestled his sleeve to pull him out of bed. The few times she had slept in had been on the even rarer days she'd slept in her own bed. Those were rare days. He was much more likely to find her asleep swimming on her back in the tidal pool that connected his chambers with Minerva's.

Severus had the sneaky suspicion that Hermione could dive into the tidal pool and show up anywhere she needed to be in Hogwarts and that Hogwarts was taking an interest in training her to be exactly what it needed. What that was, Severus wasn't sure. He suspected the old man had something to do with it. Every so often Hermione would return with a lemon drop in her mouth, and no one in Hogwarts seemed to like those except Headmaster Dumbledore… and one mischief-prone otter.

Severus opened one eye groggily, scanning the room. Hermione stirred against him, giving a small otter squeak as she bared her sharp teeth and pink tongue. She stretched out her webbed paws one by one, flexing her toes. She made a chain of burbling squeaks and snuffled his face, grooming his chin with her tongue in series of licks.

"Mmfff," he murmured, attempting to stop the assault.

When pushing her down deeper into the duvet didn't seem to help, he realised that what was fair was fair. He shifted into his Animagus form and pinned the young otter down with one large paw and proceeded to run his raspy tongue over her fur as one would a cub.

Hermione wriggled and squeaked, her paws flailing, but she didn't fight him for long.

Severus had realised that, despite the fact her parents had cast her to the winds, she trusted him and Minerva completely. It was something almost unfathomable to him. He knew he would never trust his father, even if his father came groveling back with apologies and an improved track record of good deeds, sobriety, merit to his fellow man, and a history of donating to orphaned children of alcoholics. He would find it equally hard to trust anyone that reminded him of said father. The fact that Hermione threw all of her paws into the relationship with him and with Minerva was incredible, and he knew it was a gift to be cherished.

At some point during the night, Potter had set the living room to rights and replaced all the decoy packages with the real ones. All of the torn wrapping paper from the fake presents was cleaned up, and the real ones were sitting neatly under and around the highly decorated tree. Ottermione's nose was working hard, sniffing the air as her senses told her things about each package.

Snape gave the otter one last grooming lick and released her. She squeak bounced across the floor, half sliding on her belly as her back feet sent her on a soft glide across the highly polished wooden floor. He shifted back into his human form and searched for his robes. At some time during the night, Laundry Claus had struck. His robes were cleaned, folded, and left for him where he had cast them haphazardly the night before. He wondered if Molly had a cleaning and mothering compulsion that could not be quelled or if somehow one of the others had brought one of their house elves with them.

As he buttoned all of his buttons, he watched Hermione sniffing all the packages. She wove herself around all of the parcels, sniffing, nosing, and pawing at each one. Curiosity whetted, she had to stick her nose into everything without exception.

"Hermione," he scolded. "You know you need to wait for the others to be up."

The otter looked at him forlornly, shuffling out from under the tree with her head hanging down and tail drooped.

Severus sighed and knelt to scoop her up, snuggling her to his chest. "You realise it isn't even dawn yet, miscreant?" he fussed. "This isn't Hogwarts. There is not a morning patrol."

Hermione squeaked at him, placing a paw over his mouth.

Snape mumbled into her paw.

Hermione pressed her nose to his, staring up into his eyes.

He pulled a scroll out from his robe. "Up for a delivery?"

Hermione perked immediately. She pressed her nose to the scroll and read the lettering on the front. She peered up at him again, squeaking.

"You're far from illiterate," Snape fussed at her. "It's up to you if you wish to deliver it."

Hermione squeaked, grasped the scroll between her paws, launched into the air, and disappeared with a crack.

"Cheater," Severus muttered. "Normal people don't get to learn to Apparate until they are seventeen. Someone has been hanging around the Hogwarts' house elves too much."

When Viktor Krum and a handful of other Durmstrang students showed up at the front of the Burrow, presents in their arms, and one squeaky otter leading the way into the house, Severus smiled. Molly had said to invite any of Hermione's friends, after all.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Ottermione was staring at a really large present. It would have been a large present even if she wasn't otter-sized. It towered over her with bright silver and gold ribbons dangling and shiny paper made a loud crinkling sound as she rubbed up against it.

Hermione squeaked at it, fussing at the dangling ribbons.

Viktor was chuckling, earning him a chain of squeaks from Hermione and she climbed over him to get a better perch to pounce on the present. The gathered Durmstrang laughed, fussing and ruffling her fur, and Hermione got distracted from her task, chirping in pleasure as her belly was rubbed and head massaged.

A knock at the door interrupted the present giving festivities, and Draco arrived, his parents grumbling at why they couldn't have had Christmas someplace with more room like the manor. Arthur greeted them all at the door, welcoming them in.

"Good to see you, Lucius," Arthur said. "Narcissa, you look fabulous. Draco, do you need help carrying all that? Please come in."

Ottermione perked up at the Malfoy's entry. She leapt off Viktor and squeak bounced toward Draco, practically tripping him up, and he barely managed to get all the presents down before he was pounced and tumbled over.

Draco laughed, snuggling the otter to him as he giggled. Hermione nailed him with her whiskered muzzle in multiple places until Draco was flat on his back laughing.

"I yield!" he laughed. "Mercy, Merlin, mercy!"

Hermione sat atop his chest and squeaked cutely at him

Lucius stared down at his child that was spread-eagled across the Weasley's floor. He shook his head in disapproval.

Hermione stared up at Lucius and went on her rear legs. She lifted her front paws up and extended her feet up to the elder Patriarch.

Lucius' expression softened and he scooped her up, grunting as she snuggled under his chin and tickled him with her whiskers. "Hello to you too, Hermione," he said softly, his voice like the sound of velvet across silk. "Happy Christmas."

Hermione purred, head-bonking Lucius and placing her paws against the side of his face.

"Hey, I'm jealous," Narcissa pouted and extended her hands to Hermione. The otter squeaked and launched off Lucius to wiggle against Narcissa. The Malfoy matron laughed, cuddling her as she carried her off into the kitchen to greet Molly.

"Hey, Malfoy," Harry greeted, extending his hand to help him up. "Want to help me get Ron out of bed? He heard Viktor and his fellows come in this morning and I haven't been able to get him out of the room so we can open presents together."

"Can't we just leave him there?" Draco quipped, brushing himself off. "We'd have time to eat breakfast before presents, and we wouldn't have to listen to him chew his food with his mouth open."

Fred and George snickered as they clapped Draco on the back. "Good to see ya, mate. We weren't sure you guys were going to make it to our little post-Christmas Christmas celebration."

"Father and mother got your owl the other morning," Draco said. "Ruddy bird landed in Mother's breakfast biscuits."

Fred and George winced together. "Errol is a loyal, but very accident-prone owl."

"As I recall," Lucius recollected, "didn't you two have something to do about that poor animal's lack of coordination?"

"We were only five, to be fair," the twins complained.

"I'm sure bashing blocks into his head didn't help matters much," Lucius said with a sniff, causing the twins to blush. "How is your mail order business coming along?"

"Great!" they chimed together. "We have the perfect delivery system!"

"Not Errol, I hope," Lucius asked with concern.

Fred and George laughed together. "No! Otter!"

Lucius hrmed. "I hope you are compensating her for her hard work."

The twins snorted. "She made us include Professor Snape in the business, double-checking the potion recipes and making sure they were safe and had an antidote or she refused to even consider to work for us."

Lucius gave a cunning smile. "That's a good girl."

"We made otter treats that look like chocolate frogs, but they are flavoured like raw seafood," Fred said.

"They double as prank sweets," George said. "People can buy them to prank their friends and reward Ottermione when she delivers packages. We give them a discount on every order if they buy them as tips for her.

"I'm glad your business seems to be doing well," Lucius commented. "Perhaps, once you graduate, you could open a store in Diagon Alley."

The twins perked at the idea. "Do you think so? Would we have a shot at it?"

Lucius shrugged. "It would be hard work, I'm sure. You would have to save much of what you are making now. I have a few investments I keep tabs on in the Muggle markets that you could use to gather interest. If you start now, by the time you graduate, you would be well on your way to a shop of your own."

Fred and George bounced on their heels. "That's brilliant! We could do it!"

Lucius gave a tight smile. "Prove it."

The twins nodded and high-fived each other. "We will!"

Lucius spotted Severus and gravitated towards the only other Slytherin in the group, sighing with some relief.

Severus raised a brow. "Tired already, Lucius? We haven't even had breakfast."

Lucius sighed. "We had Christmas with the relatives on the twenty fifth. Bellatrix was in rare form."

"Still spouting about Pureblood supremacy?" Severus asked.

Lucius nodded. "My father coddled her as his favourite niece for far too long. She soaked up all his tainted supremacy, and she's never let go of it. She blames most of my family, namely Narcissa for not stepping up like a proper Black, for not putting Muggles in their place."

Snape's eyes darkened. "And what place would that be."

"Under her heel," Lucius answered. "She's been one hippogriff short of a herd since she was born. Andromeda said she dipped Nymphadora in some sort of potion as a baby to 'burn the Muggle' out of her, and ever since then, the girl has sported pink hair."

Severus twitched. "I hear she's a metamorphmagus."

"Narcissa seems to think whatever was in that potion gave her that ability. No one in her bloodline has ever had that ability, and Andromeda's husband was Muggle-born, so who knows how it came about." Lucius rubbed his head and sighed.

"Genetics are fickle," Severus commented. "For all we know somewhere in Edward Tonks' family, there was a wizard or witch that was one, or maybe it was a recessive gene."

Lucius frowned. "I was never one for science. I did not have any interest in becoming a healer, and Muggle science is aggravating."

"Yet you play the Muggle stock markets and investments," Severus commented.

Lucius sniffed. "That is different."

"Hn," Severus replied.

"I don't see you, Minerva, or Hermione complaining," Lucius said with a smile. "If you ever start a family, you could live anywhere you choose. Buy a nice villa somewhere with a view, away from all those people that drive you insane. Get a nice coastal place where you can set Hermione loose upon the tides at her pleasure."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Somehow, I do not see myself settling down and starting a family any time soon considering I haven't succeeded in that area in all this time. However, perhaps, one day, it will be good to have a place where Hermione could be close to the ocean if she is not sick of me by then."

Lucius snorted. "If there is anyone on this earth that has the ability to never be sick of you, Severus Snape, it is her."

"She is a child, Lucius," Severus noted. "Children grow up, and they choose different heroes."

Lucius stared into the Christmas tree. "Some do."

"Hermione!" Molly's voice screeched. "You come back here with that sausage!"

Hermione's bouncing self tore into the living room and dove behind the pile of packages, the sound of frantic munching and consuming of the evidence seemed to be occurring soon after.

Lucius tilted his head. "I thought she favoured seafood."

"She sees food," Severus replied, "and that's all it takes."

Lucius laughed. "I suppose so."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Durmstrang students had brought a large box of foreign sweets, biscuits, Slavic versions of Chocolate Frog Cards, and Quidditch mementos to be shared amongst everyone. Most of them didn't know anyone save those they had met at Hogwarts, so they went for a communal holiday box instead. Molly gave each of them a large basket of baked goods, and Fred and George gave them all gift certificates for their mail-order business so they could pick out whatever fancied them.

Arthur asked why none of the Beauxbatons had come to celebrate as well, but Harry said they were tending their Abraxan flying horses. Someone had fed them the wrong kind of alcohol instead of single-malt whisky, and they had all fallen deathly ill. Molly seemed sad about the horses, mentioning she had always dreamed of raising flying horses as a child until she realised how hard it was to keep them happy and healthy.

Breakfast went without a hitch, with Molly keeping a watchful eye on Ottermione the sausage stealer. Hermione, however, seemed perfectly content to mind her manners at the actual breakfast table. The breakfast table was expanded and crowded around, filling the room with merriment. The Durmstrang told stories of their school and culture, amusing everyone, except for Ronald Weasley, who seemed all too busy staring at Viktor Krum to listen to the other stories.

Ginny, Fred, and George began to pick on him when he actually ignored food being passed to him, and Ron vehemently denied being obsessed. His denial, however, only egged Ginny and the twins on. The embarrassment only increased when Ginny ran up the stairs and brought down Ron's Viktor Krum action figure for him to sign. Ron turned about fifteen various shades of crimson as Ginny announced how to spell Ronald's full name in front of everyone as the Bulgarian Seeker used his wand to etch his signature into the figurine.

Viktor seemed amused by the entire deal, but Ron snatched his figurine up and ran up the stairs, yelling at his siblings to "leave his stuff bloody well alone!"

"You could at least say thank you!" Ginny yelled up the stairs as Ron slammed his door.

"Merciless, that one," Lucius said to Severus as they watched the goings on.

"Only girl in a family of sons," Severus explained.

"It is no wonder she's a firecracker," the blond wizard replied.

"Hn," Severus agreed.

By the end of the package unwrapping, Harry was surrounded with all things Quidditch, save for a practical scarf from Molly and a new book strap from Remus to take the place of the one that had strangely been chewed on by otter-sized teeth. Hermione had made him broom polish, and Sirius and James had pitched in to buy him a Nimbus broom so that he could fly in style. Lily shook her head saying he had better be careful flying around like a lunatic with only a piece of wood between him and certain death.

Remus ended up with a pile of various chocolates, because everyone knew that is what he really wanted. Fred and George gave him an edible chocolate shirt as a gag gift with a new fountain pen set, and Remus seemed far more excited about the shirt than the pen set.

Molly and Arthur only had one gift in the pile, but when they opened it, they were far from disappointed. Everyone had pitched in to get the Weasley family a new owl to replace or at least retire poor Errol, and Errol seemed more than happy to share his perch with the new addition to the family.

Every person got a new sweater or scarf from Molly, and even Ottermione was sporting a tiny scarf around her neck as she bounced around the wrapping paper and half-opened presents.

Draco, too, was cooing over a new broom, and he and Harry were comparing their models, betting on who would outrace who during the next Quidditch match.

Ginny had a pile of new clothes and magical nail enamels, and proceeded to share them with Hermione, who ended up having fabulous colour-shifting claws by the time Ginny was done.

Neville was gifted five brand new sets of potion cauldrons and supplies from his parents and friends thanks to his reputation, and only Hermione got him something different by gifting him a large flask of calming draught and a tin of chocolate biscuits, which had been added as a consolation prize to the rest. Alice and Frank Longbottom shook their heads, but they smiled. They knew as well as anyone what their son was capable of, and one of those things was the frequent destruction of his Potions supplies.

Alice and Frank received gift certificates to the Wizard-friendly Hot Springs and Spa, which was a very coveted place to visit. The hot springs, which were natural, were complemented by an assortment of other relaxation treatments from massage, aromatherapy, and dragon-steam sauna rooms. The Auror pair seemed ecstatic to get to go someplace together, and thanked everyone for their considerate gift.

Hermione bounced over to Lucius with a small parcel then bounced back under the tree. She fetched another for Narcissa, and placed it at Narcissa's toe. Both elder Malfoys opened their otter-wrapped gifts and exchanged amused glances. Narcissa had unwrapped some handcrafted lotions, and Lucius pulled out a fancy crystal decanter of his favourite tonic.

Eventually, all the presents were opened, and all the children were happy, even Ron, who had finally crawled back out of his room to open his presents. The Lovegoods arrived late, claiming the Nargles had hidden the presents, and within the hour every person present had a new necklace of bottle caps thanks to Luna.

Viktor volunteered to give flying tips and tricks to all who wanted them, and Harry and Draco pounced on the offer quickly and without regret. They dragged Ron with them, despite his protests, but it wasn't until Ginny ran in saying she'd love to learn from him that Ron seemed to regain his competitive spirit. Even Neville, who didn't get along well with brooms, joined them, perhaps hoping that Viktor could teach him something the last four years had not.

By the time most of the guests had left for the evening, and Arthur and Molly had promised to make sure Harry and Neville got back to Hogwarts with their kids, Ottermione was sprawled out atop the last unopened present under the tree. She was so tired that all she could do was tug weakly on the tied ribbons and squeak softly in protest as it refused to loosen the knot.

The present had been forgotten under a pile of cast aside wrapping paper, and it was only after Severus, Arthur, and Molly had started to clean the living room that the package had been revealed. The other children were laughing and carrying on upstairs, enjoying their presents, but Hermione was far too bushed to care.

Severus sat down beside the large present and patted his lap, which never failed to get Hermione moving. Sure enough, the tired otter-witch slid off the top of the package and landed in his lap with a squeak. He rubbed her head and back gently, until her body lay heavy in his lap. She let out a content squeak, pulling a couple of his fingers into her mouth to worry on them.

Snape grunted, pulling his fingers free from her clutches so he could rub her chin. She lay on her back in his lap, eyes half closed.

"Long day, Hermione?" he asked, a smile smile playing about his lips.

Hermione gave a tired squeak. Intense socialisation, copious food, a huge helping of shiny mysterious boxes filled with unknown things, and an entire afternoon filled with chasing friends on super fast brooms? Tired didn't even begin to cover it. Even her nose was tired out from all the sniffing and inspecting of all the things she could stick her nose into.

"I suppose we could save the present for 2nd January or Orthodox Christmas Day," Severus noted, soothing her fur.

Hermione squeaked in protest, but seemed terribly uninspired to leave his lap.

"Burn's Night?" Severus suggested. "That would give you almost a month to get to it."

Hermione groaned and crawled out of his lap, latched onto one of the giant ribbons and began to tug at it. The knot, however, refused to budge, so all she managed to do is pull the large present with her across the floor.

She chirped at the gift, wrestling with the ribbon with her paws and teeth. She glared at it, squeak-cursed, and rammed into it with her head, pushing it across the floor. She hopped on top, gnawed on the knot, and the package fell over onto it's side with a thump.

Hermione eyed the present suspiciously and then glared at Severus even more suspiciously.

Severus spread his hands out in an effort to placate.

Hermione groomed her rear flippers, a sure sign of intense concentration. Then, suddenly, she stood up on her rear legs and squeaked imperiously at the package. The abalone shell charm that was her wand glowed and magic burst from her eyes like lasers. The ribbon went flying in multiple directions as Hermione gave a satisfied squeak of victory.

Snape couldn't help the smirk forming on his face. Slicing hex on a Christmas present? Look out, world. This otter meant business.

Hermione tore into the wrapping on the box, which gave way easily in comparison to the ribbon that had vexed her. She pulled back one edge of the lid and slid into the box like a ferret going down a rabbit hole.

Rustle. Rustle. Rustle. Squeak. Rustle. Rustle.

Snape's eyebrow lifted into his hair.

Suddenly Ottermione busted out the flap of the box carrying something in her jaws. She let it go, allowing it to fall to the floor with a thump. She snuffled it, stared at it, and made a soft cooing sound that Snape knew was a good sign.

There on the floor was a shimmering opal that seemed to hold the setting sun within its body. It was smooth and polished, still encased in a deep black stone that had surrounded it for countless years. Runes were carved in the deep black stone, shimmering with their own deep magic. They swirled around the familiar mark of Severus Snape—his personal sigil. His magic sung in the stone, resonating from it like a focus, but most amazing of all was that the inside of the opal seemed to move like real clouds across the sun.

Hermione placed her paws on the opal. It was perfectly sized for her, just large enough to be "useful" and hidden in her under the arm "otter pockets" and Severus knew she stowed her favourite tools, such as clam smashing rocks as well as food she was gathering off the seafloor. She experimented, holding it in her paws before stowing it away under her arms. She took it out again, stared into it, rubbing her paws against the surface as though to polish it, but it did not dim. It shown like the sunset it emulated.

"It's enchanted," Severus said after a moment. "It cannot be scratched or broken. It is a tool, for your midnight clam-bashing needs, but it is also a focus for your magic, if you would so need it. It's also enchanted so it will stick to you as you need it, so you never have to worry about it falling out of your pocket."

Hermione pet the stone more furiously, hugged it to herself, stashed it under her arm, and leapt into Snape's lap and squeak rubbed all over his chest.

Snape smiled down at her, rubbing her head affectionately. "You're welcome."

Suddenly, Hermione seemed to realise something, and she squeaked, slid across the living room floor as though she were navigating water, and slide under the couch. A few moments later, she popped out, dragging a small gift in her mouth by the ribbons.

Hermione dropped it into his lap and stared up at him adoringly.

Severus poked the gift with one slender finger, eyeing Hermione with the same suspicion she had shown him earlier. She squeaked at him, her paws on her sides as she admonished him.

He pulled the ribbon and paper away and exposed a brilliantly shining crystal flask. Inside was a golden liquid that seemed very much alive. As he stared into the flask, golden fish seem to leap out of the surface and splash back down: Felix Felicis… Liquid Luck. There was enough in the crystal flask to last a countless amount of days if he were to take it all at once, but he knew better than to do that. It was enough to last a lifetime if he were to use it only when it was sorely needed.

Hermione had passed her Potions practical without having intended to by brewing one of the hardest potions to make without botching it. She had made one of the most highly coveted potions in the world, and instead of selling it, she had given it to him for Christmas.

Severus stared at Hermione, closing his eyes as his emotions threatened to surface. He struggled with them before opening his eyes and placing his hand on her head. "Thank you," he said at last.

Hermione squeaked adoringly at him, and all was right with the world.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 **A/N:** Happy Almost New Year!


	4. Chapter 4 Otterly Interesting

**A/N:** Uh… this chapter is long.

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, my inserter of forgotten words and reminder that grammar still exists despite my attempts to resist it

* * *

 **So Glad It Wasn't Me**

 **Chapter 4: Otterly Interesting**

Viktor Krum won the Tri-Wizard Tournament, with Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacour coming out of the maze together, arms around each other as they limped together in unison. All three champions gave each other celebratory hugs, and it seemed that no one believed themselves a loser when they all came out alive.

The only one who looked disappointed was Cho Chang, who seemed to realise that while she had danced with Cedric for the Yule Ball, his heart had been won by his fellow Tri-Wizard champion.

By the time the school year had come to an end, hundreds of new friendships had been made, and there was a blanket of sadness that the new friends would now be leaving them.

Viktor, having sat with Ottermione on the hill overlooking the Black Lake and the anchored Durmstrang ship had said their goodbyes, or at least farewells until they met again.

"You write me?" Viktor asked, stroking Hermione along her back.

Hermione squeaked in affirmative.

Viktor looked out over the Black Lake, his black eyes catching the last of the sun as it dipped below the horizon.

"I will miss you, Lady Hermione," he said.

Hermione laid a paw on his hand and stared up at him.

"Being last of line of ancient kind hard," he confessed. "Forced into many things. Forced to be better. Forced to be great. Forced to look out over others that cannot look after self."

Hermione tilted her head and nodded at him.

"As Bulgarian Seeker, in spotlight always," he said after a while. "As last line of ancient king, still in spotlight. Arranged marriage when but child, but for a time, when with you, could dream, _da_?"

Hermione chirped sadly, pressing her head to his hands.

"One day, when current king die," Viktor sighed, "I must put people before Quidditch. Put people before self. Live lonely life with woman do not love. Make heir. Do honourable thing."

Hermione chirred softly, snuggling into his arms, and Viktor held her close to him. "You only one that know," he said. "Even comrades not know who I am. They see Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker. They see Tri-Wizard champion. That all they see. You see me. For me. Never forget that."

He fished around his neck and pulled something off. A large shark tooth covered in runes dangled from a goblin silver chain. "Tradition give to one I love. I give to you. Claim you sister. My family. If ever you need anything, think of me while holding this. I come. This I swear." He squeezed his hand around the shark tooth, blood dripped from his hand to the ground.

Hermione squeaked at him, eyes wide.

"You trust me, my sister?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"You tell me your parents give you up," Viktor said darkly. "I will not. I give you family until the seas swallow all."

He placed the tooth in her paws, his hand wrapped around hers and squeezed. "I will never abandon you. I will never leave you to face the seas alone. I swear this. Will you accept me, Hermione? My blood. My family. Let my family be your family. Let me fill the hole left behind."

Hermione set her jaw and nodded. She clenched her paw tightly. She squeaked as the tooth pierced her paw. Their combined blood dripped over the tooth, swirling together.

"You are my sister," he said gently. "Forever bound to line of Krum."

Hermione nuzzled his hand, squeaking with concern.

He smiled at her. "It will heal. Do not worry."

He placed it around her neck, and it magically shrank to sit against the shell that was her wand. He lowered his lips to her head and kissed the top of it. He smiled at her, his black eyes staring into hers. "No need for money from tournament. Transferred all to you. Perhaps, help your friends start their business. Make allies strong as king makes people strong. Provide for those care about. Provide for them. They stand by you when you forced into a shark and rule from sea."

Hermione climbed up his chest and bonked her head into his chin. She licked the end of his nose.

"You write me, _da?_ " Viktor insisted.

Hermione squeaked affirmative.

Viktor smiled warmly. "I will miss you, my sister," he said, hugging her tight. "In another life, I would make you my queen."

Hermione snuggled against him, and Viktor held her furry body to him. He pressed his nose into her fur and smiled as the last of the setting sun disappeared.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Apprentice exams were slightly different than the standardised tests that most Hogwarts students took. Apprentice exams were all about what you could do and how well you thought outside of the box. Otters were all about the inside and outside of a box, and Hermione was a natural. She tested her practicals in Potions with enough proficiency that N.E.W.T. level was going to be a snore a minute for her. She had brewed him Felix for Christmas, after all, so nothing was really beyond her scope even at her young age. Minerva had taken Hermione to have her tested for Transfiguration as well, and she did about as well as a otter who had an Animagus form before she had hit her third year possibly could.

Silent and wandless magic was as natural to her as breathing, as necessity had made it so. The only thing she lacked was the larger magical reserves that age would bring. That could only come to her in time, so despite her talent in many areas, there were some things that would drain her far more than others, and it often frustrated her that certain spells made her tired. A tired otter was a cranky otter, and a cranky otter was hell on wheels.

Hermione was the first witch on record to have an Apparation licence before she was remotely close to seventeen, and Severus knew she didn't do it like humans did. She Apparated like a house elf. It did the same thing, so the officials gave her the licence, but Hermione had somehow learned from Hogwarts how to go where she needed to go. Need was not always the same thing as want, which was the main difference between house elf magic and human magic.

Hogwarts, again, was training her to be something only it knew. It wasn't telling anyone what that plan was, either. Aggravating school. Meddlesome too. Hermione could dive into any puddle and show up somewhere else in Hogwarts. At first he'd thought she had Apparated, but there had been no sound. Then, she saw her do it again.

He had approached the puddle in question and stepped in it. His boot had touched the stone floor beneath. Apparently she didn't think anything of it because she hadn't told him about it, and he knew she tended to tell him anything and everything new and exciting that happened to her. Perhaps, she simply thought everyone could do it, or maybe the house elves did something of the sort, so it never even occurred to her that it wasn't natural to do so.

When asked about it, Hermione had looked confused.

"I dive in and swim to where I need to go," she explained with vivid images straight to his mind.

He had simply accepted. Sometimes it was all he could do. Thinking about things logically when your familiar was an otter-witch was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. You had to learn to accept that if there there were two points and a line, Hermione would be somewhere off the grid making a trapezium or an isosceles trapezoid. That was just the way she was.

Once she had her Apprentice tests out of the way, there was still the obligatory standardised tests that the Ministry insisted every witch and wizard had to take.

Hermione sat her exams as the first otter ever to get O's on all her O.W.L.s, much to the amusement of the Ministry officials who watched as Hermione squeaked orders at a special enchanted quill which wrote down her answers to each question. The few officials who had seen fit to air their opinions about how ludicrous it was to think an otter could sit the O.W.L.s quickly found themselves eating humble pie as the very impressed grading official looked over her work when she turned it in.

"Ms Granger," the wizened elder witch said. "I look forward to seeing how your career progresses."

Hermione squeaked politely to the elder witch and bounced out of the testing hall.

There was a fuss a few weeks later when the O.W.L. scores were posted officially. Someone named Dolores Umbridge was kicking up a fuss that only humans could take the O.W.L.s. The woman had almost single-handedly made it so Lupin couldn't get a job anywhere either, until the werewolf had saved the Minister from a very dastardly assassination attempt that had sprung up from her own cabinet. There were many people that had opposed Eugenia Jenkins back in the day when pure-blood supremacy was rising its ugly head, but Tom Riddle had but the kibosh on that. Eugenia Jenkins had kept her job as the Minister for Magic, things had definitely improved for most families. There were still those that apparently disagreed, and they had tried to take her out in a very Muggle fashion: with a sniper rifle.

Lupin, however, had smelled the gunpowder and gun oil thanks to his superior sense of smell. Minister Jenkins gave Lupin an Order of Merlin, and werewolves had made it to the equal rights list. Lupin had been working as an agent in the equivalent of the Muggle MI:5. They called it the Ministry Guard. He, much like hit wizards, had his own bed at St Mungo's, but the thing about Lupin was that he blended in. No one suspected him of being an agent. Perhaps, people had some preconceived notion of what an agent was supposed to look like, but whatever that was, Lupin didn't fit the type. That was his advantage. No one ever saw him coming. The nice thing about working for the Guard was that he had free Wolfsbane potions for life, and every month he got five guaranteed days off—one day before the full moons and one day after for recouping purposes.

Enter in our favourite Mistress of the Squeak. Her Master's project was developing the first and only flavour drops for the Wolfsbane potion. One drop per dose, and she could make that Wolfsbane potion taste like anything from prime rib, lobster tail, to Lupin's personal favourite: chocolate. It not only worked in Wolfsbane potions, it made even Skele-grow taste good. The favourite flavour used at St. Mungo's was watermelon. The brilliant little otter already had people sending me owls wondering if they could "borrow her for the summer months" as a secondary or tertiary apprentice. Minerva and I agreed that having two masters was plenty to keep the little minx busy. It was better, really. Those other people had no idea what it was like looking out for Her Most Divine Squeakiness full time.

As for Dolores Umbridge and her quest to undermine Hermione's O.W.L.s, there was a line of Masters at the Apprenticeship Board who had witnessed Hermione's sitting her Apprentice Exams as well as her practicals and all of them wrote some very harsh articles and sent them to the Daily Prophet. O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. grades were a matter of public record, and someone had dug up Dolores' pitiful scores and had them posted all over the posts going up and down Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and Knockturn Alley. When they started to creep into the Ministry itself, Umbridge apparently became unglued and tried to burn the place down. Needless to say, at that point, no one was questioning Hermione's capabilities anymore. Umbridge, however, not so much. One man, some Junior Minister named Cornelius Fudge, spoke out in the Daily Prophet, purporting that "Dolores was always such a sound-minded individual who always helped whenever he asked." Unfortunately for Umbridge, that article was buried in about a hundred nasty and menacing letters all demanding her immediate resignation from the Ministry.

Toy wands painted with obnoxious glittery pink paint and decorated with equally obnoxious cute kittens started to show up in Diagon Alley. All proceeds were being donated to the Muggle-Wizarding Education Alliance (MWEA) for families of Muggle-born wizards and witches. Their goal was to educate families of new witches and wizards to give them more insight into the Wizarding World. MWEA bridged the gap between the Muggle and Wizarding world and allowed parents and their children to go through a pre-Hogwarts orientation. They gave tours of Diagon Alley, helped parents and new students with their supply lists, opening accounts at Gringotts, and finding the elusive Platform 9 ¾. Muggle-born students were given a tour of Hogwarts during the summer when the regular students were on leave, and given a heads up as to what to expect during the Sorting Ceremony, a history of the Houses, and the reason why there was the Statute of Secrecy. By the time those new students stood at Platform ¾ for the first time, they were ready, excited as any of the magically-raised children, and their parents seemed much more comfortable with where their children were going. Better yet, many of the embarrassing questions that tended to ostracize Muggle-born witches and wizards were avoided, and friendships grew much faster between the first years. The only question that could never be avoided was "why is there an otter sitting up at the High Table?"

The entire program to promote education of Muggle parents of Muggle-born students was something Umbridge was notoriously against, which just made the toy wands sell even faster. A new set of animated plates became a bestseller—plates depicting a figure dressed in all pink being swarmed by a flood of hungry cats. It became common to hear people say "now, don't be an Umbridge," whenever someone said something out of colour. Last Severus heard, the woman was spending time in Azkaban after she tried to strangle her healer at St. Mungo's. Pink, edible jail bars were added to the toy list shortly after along with cotton candy Dementors. If the woman ever got out, she was never going to be taken seriously ever again.

Hermione, on the other hand, was living care-free and far away from incarceration. Save the fact she was imprisoned in an otter body, she wasn't showing signs of ill-health. A couple times a year, Severus and Minerva put on their Muggle clothes and took Hermione to the Marine Mammal Wildlife Trust off the coast of Scotland. There was a squib marine biologist who worked there who gave Hermione her check up every few months, making sure that all her ottery parts were working satisfactorily. The doctor, Maryann Reingold, always loved Hermione's visits. She would happily look her over, check her weight, examine her growth, make sure she was eating healthy, staying out of more polluted areas, and letting Hermione meet the orphaned baby river otters that they were rehabilitating.

Hermione seemed to enjoy every bit of it, and when a baby river otter latched onto her, Hermione groomed him up all fluffy and floated on her back, letting the little one sleep atop her belly like a living raft. The river otter pup, oblivious to the difference in species, happily used her as a life raft, and squeaked excitedly as she paddled around.

When it was time for her to leave, Hermione let Dr Reingold pluck the little one off her, squeaking sadly that she had to leave.

Doctor Reingold said she was welcome to visit anytime, and that seemed to make Hermione happier.

The new DADA instructor, and Severus and Minerva speculated that no one could seem to hold the position for longer than a year or two, was a flighty fellow with pale, porcelain-like skin, dark eyes, and a terribly underfed frame. Many of the students called him a vampire behind his back, and for once, Severus found himself ignored as Hogwarts' local dungeon bat. There was a new vampire at Hogwarts, and apparently he was more fascinating than Severus ever was.

The new professor, who was ironically named Bartholomew Belfry, either had people speculating on how he liked his blood or had a bunch of females casting him fascinated gazes. Even Hermione seemed to tilt her head and stare, in her typical unabashed otter fashion, at the new professor.

Hermione hardly had to pay attention in DADA class, thanks to her Durmstrang brothers giving her tutorials all of her fourth year and having Severus as a Master. Severus had always been strongly in favor of the study of Dark Arts and how to counter it. Lucius had always encouraged it, stating that he had to know as much as possible in case Bellatrix had a moment and took it out on whoever was closest. Black had also encouraged him to know as much as possible in case any of his crazy family tried to use him as a test subject. Thankfully, none of them had, but Severus had learned fast and thoroughly.

What he knew, he taught Hermione, and Hermione was a sponge for all things magic. Dark, Light, and everything in between were her brain foods, and they had studied them all extensively in the attempt to break the curse upon her.

He caught Hermione staring down the High Table at the DADA professor again.

"Ms Granger," Snape addressed her, putting his finger on her nose.

Hermione blinked, startled. She looked up at him with some embarrassment in her thoughts.

"Whatever is so fascinating that you are ignoring your abalone?" Severus asked, eyebrow arching.

Hermione made balloon sounds and wiggled her whiskers. She seemed to be confused as to why she was so fascinated as well. She cleaned her offered plate of seafood swiftly, and then went back to staring.

Professor Belfry looked down the table and smiled at Hermione.

Hermione squeaked in embarrassment, and scrambled into Severus' lap, radiating her flustered thoughts.

Snape stared down at her, his hand gently soothing her head. Then, it hit him. Hermione was sixteen. It was the age of human hormonal drama. Merlin only knew what that meant for an otter-witch. Severus felt his cheeks flush as he picked up some of Hermione's thoughts.

Bloody hell. He was brain-linked to a teenager.

Maybe Minerva would be kind enough to murder him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

In an effort to make the awkwardness less... awkward, Severus had tried to insist that Her Flustered Squeakiness sleep in the room that had always been hers from the beginning. It worked for a while, perhaps long enough for Hermione to sort through her surging hormones and Merlin knew what else was going through her brain as her body tried to make the transition from child to adult.

Severus tried hard not to feel the absence of her physical warmth that had been a comfort for upwards of five years, but he told himself it was for the best, even if she was his familiar.

Sometimes, when she was assisting him in class, she would stare off into the distance with cobwebs forming in her mind as butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. He'd catch her pining after Professor Belfry or Mr Adams from seventh year. Then, she would catch herself, bash her head against the desk with an almost audible crack, and then run around like she was on fire to distract herself from whatever was going on in her brain.

He caught her embarrassment and her shame, and Severus realised it was time Minerva or Lily had a talk with her about growing up. It was something she had to do, rather than him. He wasn't female, and the conversation would be more than a little awkward.

Then, one day, after having spent the day with Minerva and Lily on an all-girls outing, Hermione came back as bouncy as ever and with less shame. She would still get distracted by a number of people, but she no longer radiated distress that she was somehow malfunctioning. A week or two after that girls-day-out, the familiar thump of weight landed on his bed, fur wiggled up against his body, and a cold nose pressed against his chin once more as Ottermione returned to her place by his side.

As his arm circled around her warm body, he pulled her closer, pressing his nose into her spice-scented fur. The small, nagging loneliness that had been rising up in the back of his mind disappeared as he fell soundly asleep at last.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione discussed it with Severus and did what Viktor had suggested. She invested in Fred and George's business, and helped them get a place to fix up in Diagon Alley. By the time they graduated, all the renovations would be complete, the shelves stocked, employees hired, and advertisements sent out. To top it all off, there was plenty of space in the upstairs of the building to live in, and that meant more peace of mind that they didn't have to find a place to live as well as maintain a shop.

The twins made plans to include a laboratory for Severus and Hermione, so all of their potion making and research would be done in-house. They had even made it so the lab area was quiet even if the store was busy, knowing that the Potion Master would most likely burn the place down just to be rid of the noise otherwise. With Lucius monitoring their investments, the twins invested all they could into it, and it looked very promising that they would start their business in the green instead of praying that they would make enough to make ends meet.

Severus was glad that at least Fred and George would be able to get out of the Burrow but not be so far away that Molly would worry like she did over Charlie. Percy had gotten off to a rough start as the secretary to one ex-Madam Secretary Umbridge, and the backwash from that had made it hard for him to be trusted in any position with advancement. Molly worried about him constantly, and Arthur seemed to think Percy might have to go work at a foreign Ministry just to start off with a clean slate. That sent Molly into another panic about her babies living too far away.

Severus raised an eyebrow to that line of thought. Apparates, Floos, and Portkeys were not uncommon things. That aside, brooms weren't exactly rare either. He wasn't going to bring up to Molly Weasley that if her children weren't communicating with her that distance may not have been the true reason it was breaking down.

The last Muggle hurricane had been named Hurricane Molly. Severus considered it a sign.

Severus found himself sobered as he realised eventually Hermione would be of the age when children moved out and found their own path in life, and he wondered how that would affect his relationship with her. Familiars lived with their bondmate for life, but Hermione was more than just a familiar. She was never _just_ anything.

Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts. One day, perhaps, he would have to worry about such things, but for now, at least, he would put it aside.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A certain Mr Weasley was going through his own hormonal de-evolution in the wake of his sixteenth year, and it seemed he was branching out, or, as some might have described it, putting out roots for everyone to trip over.

Tired of Lavender always pining over the next attractive bloke to come around, having had his fill of her sighing wistfully at Viktor Krum as though he were a far better possibility than what was right in front of her, Ron ended up going out with Parvati. Many suspected that the boy did it just to spite Lavender. Everyone knew that Lavender and Parvati did everything but keep secrets from each other.

Stranger still, at least from what Harry was telling his father, which of course got back to Severus because Potter couldn't keep gossip a secret if it threatened his life, was that Ron and Parvati were actually doing very well together. No one had seen that coming.

Ginny and the twins were secretly betting that Ron would confess his love and devotion to Viktor Krum, but it seemed the joke was on everyone. Ron had transferred all of his devotion to Parvati, and if Parvati wasn't really into him, no one could tell.

Chiefly amongst those who had the misfortune of finding out was Hermione, who had been dutifully patrolling the hallways for curfew breakers. Otters had exceptional hearing, and she found the pair stuffed in a broom closet to avoid being caught by Filch by the sound of their rustling and giggling.

Severus wasn't sure who was more mortified, Hermione or Parvati and Ron. Hermione had not expected to see what she did, and it was definite that Parvati and Ron hadn't expected anyone to find them. The mental debriefing that had flooded into Snape's mind when she returned from patrol, dove into the tidal pool, slamming herself against the rock faces as if to scrub herself clean, and then burrowing under his pillow was that she had seen what could not be unseen. She had yelled at them in colourful otter vernacular and sent them packing down the hallway, clutching their garments in their hands in their haste to get away.

Hermione had docked them points in her flurry of angry squeaks, and then proceeded to come back home and attempt to scour the night's discovery from her brain.

Snape, somewhat horrified himself, cuddled her close to him until she stopped twitching and let her sleep on his pillow while he finished his grading. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep his mind from the revelation his familiar had shared with him. Knowing what he knew, one should always worry when copulating with any Weasley, given that particular family's noteworthy fecundity. Merlin, he hoped they had at least paid attention during the contraceptive charm lessons that Pomfrey gave when every student reached sixteen. Otherwise, there would be a high probability of the murder of one Ronald Bilius Weasley by one angry and righteous Molly Weasley.

Merlin help him if that happened.

Severus' quill hesitated over the grading.

What if the entire problem was that contraceptive charms didn't work on Weasleys?

Snape closed his eyes, quelling the horror in his mind.

Thoughts, unbidden, rose to the surface. Padma and Pavarti were twins. Their family was prone to twins, from what he recalled. Weasleys were a raging brood. Twins plus brood equals…

Snape twitched, scrawled a T all over the horrible paper he was grading, and put up his pen. He proceeded to take the coldest and most torturous shower he could, threw on his bedclothes, and burrowed under his duvet with purpose. He used every bit of Occlumency he had to shove his trainwreck of thoughts under whatever mental rock he could and slammed his head into the pillow.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten that he'd left Hermione on his pillow, and his head slammed into Hermione's sleeping body. She squeaked in terror, shaken out of her sleep, and ended up clinging to his bed curtains with wide eyes.

Severus groaned, spouting apologies, and opened his arms to her, saying a hundred different things he couldn't even remember later, just to get the terrified look off her face.

Hermione crawled into his arms, shivering, and he pulled her under the covers, wrapping his arms around her as he pressed his nose into her fur. She trembled against him for a while until her mind settled and she finally relaxed.

Severus closed his eyes at last, praying he didn't have dreams of a horde of dark-skinned redheads sitting in his class wanting to know how to make skin-care products and cosmetics.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"What do you mean it doesn't work on us?" Ron squealed at Fred and George as they pulled him by his ear to have a talk in the rosebushes.

"What we're saying, brother," Fred started to say.

"Is that the little charm Pomfrey teaches us doesn't do a lick of good on a Weasley," George finished.

"Wha—" Ron blurted.

"We heard what happened last night," George said.

"Everyone heard what happened last night," Fred confirmed.

"Portraits haven't stopped talking about it," George continued.

"Genetics, brother," Fred said with a shrug. "We have very potent little wrigglers, you see."

"Oh my— stop talking!" Ron yelled, blushing furiously.

"Whoa, hey," George said. "You're the one sticking your pecker in forbidden places, brother."

"And getting caught!" Fred added.

"St—stop talking!" Ron moaned.

"Better hope she's not on a fertile day is all I'm saying, brother," Fred said after a moment.

"Otherwise you may be getting married before us!" George announced.

"Or murdered," Fred added.

"By our mother!" they chimed together.

"Because you know she would!" George continued.

"Oh, yeah, she'd just finish what she started when you were four and killed her only cat trying to put it into a bowl of water to make a catfish," Fred said.

Ron trembled, clutching his hair. "She's going to send howlers… howlers! Everyone will know!"

"Everyone already knows, brother," George reminded him. "You kind of dropped your knickers on the moving staircase."

Ron made a sound akin to air being let out of a balloon. "I'm so dead."

"Not dead yet, bro," George said with a shrug. "Might want to make out your will, though."

"Can I have your chocolate frog card collection?" Fred asked.

Ron tried to flee from his brothers, but the nearby rosebush was tangled in his clothes, and he tripped, landing face first into the rose brambles.

"Ow, bro," Fred echoed his twin.

"That's going to need stitches," George confirmed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Snape ran his hand down Ottermione's back as he watched Ronald Weasley slink into the Great Hall for lunch with about fifteen butterfly sutures all over his face, arms, and hands that he could see. Whatever had happened, the boy had done it epically. He somehow doubted the boy had a shaving accident, but he looked far worse than Draco had after falling off his broom at the last Quidditch match.

Minerva's eyebrows were high into her hair, and Snape's were not much different. Ottermione stared off across the Great Hall as a young grey owl flew in over the table carrying a very distinctive red envelope.

All eyes were now watching the Gryffindor table with utmost curiosity and horror.

* * *

 _RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!_

 _HOW DARE YOU DISGRACE YOURSELF IN SUCH A MANNER! HAVE YOU NO SHAME? NO SELF CONTROL? HAVEN'T WE TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN TO THINK ONLY OF YOUR TODGER? I NEVER HAD TO HEAR NEWS FROM BILL, CHARLIE OR PERCY ABOUT THEM GETTING CAUGHT SHAGGING LIKE A RABID NIFFLER ON A GOLD PILE! EVEN THE TWINS HAVE NEVER BEEN SO SHAMELESS OR CARELESS!_

 _NOW YOU LISTEN HERE, AND YOU LISTEN WELL, RONALD. IF YOU HAVE GOTTEN THAT YOUNG WITCH PREGNANT, I SWEAR TO MERLIN THAT YOUR FATHER AND I WILL SELL YOU TO THE GOBLINS TO SHOVEL DRAGON DUNG IN THEIR MINES UNTIL YOU'RE FORTY! AT LEAST THE FUNDS FROM THAT WILL PAY FOR THE CHILD'S EDUCATION, SOMETHING THAT YOU APPARENTLY LACK!_

 _(change into more gentle tone)_

 _Ginny, dear, I'm so glad you did so well on your project. I knew you could do it. Your father and I are so proud._

 _(Howler bursts into flames)_

* * *

Severus watched as Pavarti Patil turned a very unhealthy shade of pale and ran from the Great Hall.

He tenderly scratched behind Hermione's ears, eliciting a soft purr-like sound from his familiar. "Well, I'm not sure if that makes up for having been subjected to the sight of Mr Weasley's naked bum, Miss Granger, but I believe it is a good step towards adequate retribution."

Ottermione flopped over shamelessly, asking for a belly rub.

Snape gave a tight smile as he obliged. "By the way, Miss Granger," he purred. "If I ever catch you shagging with some random otter out of wedlock, I will end you."

Hermione bit his finger.

He supposed that was close enough to agreement.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Announcements of Viktor's formal wedding came later in the year when the entire hemisphere seemed to be covered in the world's longest period of snow. Snow was falling in record levels across the world, and the tired looking owl that arrived with the invitation took about a week to thaw out before he was ready to fly back to Bulgaria. Hermione was happy enough to share her seafood with the visiting owl, and the large, raggedy-looking bird seemed very appreciative.

Once the bird seemed less apt to fall off his perch, Severus wrote a formal reply, handed it off to Hermione, and Hermione put her paws around the tired old owl and Apparated with the scroll and the owl to Bulgaria. So much for the anti-Apparation jinx. They never worked for the house elves, so it didn't surprise him too much that Ottermione defied yet another rule.

Hermione returned half a day later, covered in fur-lined Bulgarian otter-wear that seemed to have been custom-made just for her. She carried in a crate of what looked like the finest foods fit for a king's table, and when Severus used his wand to enlarge it to "normal" size, it practically broke his table.

Hermione looked at him apologetically, squeaking softly.

Inside the crate was also a set of fur-lined capes and clothes for Severus, including a rather dashing hat. Hermione chirped at him appraisingly when he put it on, radiating warm approval.

Severus invited Minerva, the Malfoys, Lily, and the Trio of Troublemakers over for a fine dinner. Hermione chittered at him, reminding him not to forget about the Headmaster, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour as well as other staff, since there was enough food to feed the entire Ministry three times over.

The Headmaster customised a dining room for the affair, and by the time all the inviting was done, everyone who had known Viktor in any way more personal than Quidditch admiration or blatant hero worship had been invited to attend.

Great discussion rose about Viktor's coming out with not only his upcoming nuptials but his status as next in line to become one of the Wizarding world's ancient line of Wizard Kings. Many wondered how he had kept such a thing so secret, and Harry commented that it was probably why Viktor had thrown such energy into Quidditch—for a time, at least, Viktor had the adoration of people on his own terms. The only responsibility he had was his education until he came of age.

Hermione however, seemed to suspect the truth. She sat in Severus' lap and projected her thoughts clearly. Viktor had been able to hide that he was the rightful heir because he had never once revealed his shark form to the public. He had done it, however, in front of countless witnesses to rescue her for the second task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. He had proven, undeniably, that he was the heir to the Shark-Wizard King of old. Perhaps, he could have pretended and cast a bubble charm or some such spell like a normal wizard of his type, but he had made the choice to stand up for his heritage and accept the eventual responsibility of the throne. He had done it for her to prove his worth to the only one who mattered: Hermione.

And while he knew that also meant that he and Hermione could never be together as a couple, as acceptance of the throne also meant accepting his arranged marriage, he had also done it on his own terms by binding Hermione to his bloodline as his sister with the oldest form of magic known: blood and intent. Regardless of what came, Hermione would be as close as blood, and since Bulgaria still followed the Old Ways, that made blood magic perfectly acceptable. Many of those Old Ways filtered down through Durmstrang's traditions as well, which had led to the school's reputation for Dark magic.

To Viktor and his comrade brothers, however, magic was magic. Dark and Light were two sides of the same galleon, and you could not have one without the other. Durmstrang accepted this. It was life. Somehow, schools such as Hogwarts and Beauxbatons catered to the Ministries which believed that Light was the only publically acceptable magic. Whatever reason the Ministries chose, it seemed to be working for their people, but there were some people, such as Severus, who wondered if the reason Dark Lords even tried to rise at all was because of the stigma and allure of the forbidden. If things were in reverse and "Light" magic was forbidden, would a Light Lord rise in the Dark Lord's place?

The dinner went smoothly, and everyone made plans to travel together to Viktor's upcoming wedding. Paperwork for Portkeys would have to be submitted, travel permissions with the Bulgarian Ministry would have to be filed due to the sensitive nature of whose wedding they were going to, and all manner of diplomatic acrobatics that made planning a typical wedding look like a stroll in the park.

Thankfully, due to Hermione, Severus and she would be ported in by some of Viktor's personal guard, so they didn't have to plan for anything. They wouldn't even have to plan what to wear, because Viktor was having them fitted and dressed as family. Snape really wasn't sure what he was getting into in that department, but as long he was wasn't going to be dressed in flamboyant rainbow colours or obnoxious pink, he would deal with it for Viktor's sake.

When the royal tailors flooed into Dumbledore's office, he called Severus, Hermione, and Minerva in. Albus looked terribly amused watching the tailors fuss over the trio. Ottermione squeaked as they covered her in measuring tapes, covered her in fabric samples, and barely paused long enough for her to sniff what was going on. For an otter, it was pure torture.

Severus glared at Albus throughout the entire ordeal, convinced the old man had seen it coming and was enjoying every minute of it.

By the time the tailors were done, the three of them looked excruciatingly knackered and and the end of their collective ropes. They were also dressed in the kind of finery that somehow mixed beautiful with practical, unlike the sort of ridiculously elaborate gowns and suits that made it unbearable to move. Minerva, Severus, and Hermione now had personal signet rings, and they had been soul bound to each of them, making them impossible to become lost or stolen.

Ottermione looked like some elaborate stuffed animal, dressed in her royal finery, and the only thing that kept her from completely freaking out was Albus and his lemon drops. Severus swore there was some sort of mind-soothing tranquilizer in those drops… or clam juice. Something had to be appealing to Ottermione that kept her coming back for more.

To top off the ornate finery, Fawkes had brought one of his chicks to visit, and the little lintball promptly affixed itself to Hermione, making her look like some sort of strange totem pole of a Bulgarian Hunter Goddess.

Half of the tailors seemed to be satisfied, and they left, stating or threatening to send us the resulting clothes for the wedding. They adorned Hermione's neck with a set of miniaturised Krum family heirlooms that were apparently a grievous insult to refuse in every society that mattered . She was, now by blood, sister to Viktor Krum, heir to the throne of Wizarding Bulgaria. She was also an otter. Apparently that didn't matter. She also had a small tiara that floated above her head.

"Doesn't she need some sort of ceremony to be crowned?" Minerva fussed, forced to stand still as they took her measurements one more time.

"Crown Prince Viktor bound her as blood, Madam," the tailor said with pins between his teeth. "No ceremony required beyond that."

"Oh," Minerva said, looking flustered. "I guess England makes things so much more complicated."

Ottermione squeaked in protest as the man held up her by her paws and put a measuring tape around her underarms.

The Daily Prophet was going to have a field day with this rather extraordinary bit of news. Hermione, otter crown princess of Bulgaria, blood sister of the future King Viktor. What would her parents think? He wondered if her parents would even bat an eyelash, seeing as they hadn't shown interest in Hermione or her education since she had been otterfied. Would the crown prince and princess of Bulgaria make the Muggle papers? Merlin, what was this ring on his finger? The royal seal of Bulgaria with his name added to it… what in bloody hell did that make him and Minerva?

"Royal counselors," Albus said, popping a lemon drop in his mouth.

Severus shot him a glare. Bloody legilimens. _Get out of my head, you old goat!_

Snape brooded. He shouldn't have to use Occlumency to protect his thoughts from his boss.

Dumbledore smiled as the baby phoenix on Hermione's head sang and warbled in miniature.

"You know," Albus mentioned casually as if he were discussing the rain gauge, "phoenixes are the royal birds of Wizarding Bulgaria. They are traditionally given to the newlywed couple to promote good health, long life, and the fertility of the new ruling family." Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Hrm, I wonder where anyone would find a young phoenix that was willing to go?"

Severus glared at the Headmaster. Meddlesome old goat.

Ottermione sighed and squeaked out a chain of orders in Otterese, gesturing with her paws in a commanding manner.

"Yes, your Highness," the tailors said automatically, and with that, they bowed and exited through the floo.

Minerva stared down at the exhausted otter who looked like she desperately needed a hug. Minerva opened her arms and Hermione crawled into them, squeaking tiredly. "I don't know what you said, love, but I think it was long overdue."

Hermione chirped and snuggled into Minerva's shoulder, closing her eyes.

Impromptu royalty she might be, but to Severus and Minerva she was always Hermione, Her Most Royal and Glorious Squeakiness, and the furry little menace who had stolen their hearts so long ago. Because of her, they would brave any danger, and they would even suffer through the many fittings for her brother Viktor's wedding.

As Hermione's sleepy otter snores filled the room, Albus had a knowing smile upon his lips.

And because of Hermione, Severus and Minerva would hold off murdering Albus Dumbledore for being an insufferably meddlesome pest.

The little lintball phoenix chick sang his song from atop Minerva's head.

Severus supposed he would hold off murder for another day.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Her Furry Highness of Squeak slept through the rest of the day. It was the longest time during the day either of them had ever seen her completely still. Minerva moved her around like an otter-shaped paperweight, using her unconscious body to weigh down her graded scrolls and papers. Every so often she would lift Hermione up, move her to the next pile, or put more papers under her. The sleeping otter didn't even stir.

Minerva changed into her cat form and curled up next to Hermione in between classes, and Severus had her cradled in one arm as he taught Potions. No one questioned her studies being neglected. People seemed to suspect that she undoubtedly had her homework done all the way up until graduation. Whether that was true or not, neither Severus nor Minerva were speaking up about it.

Albus found the trio sprawled out on their backs in the sun on the Hogwarts ramparts, finding the one sunny spot that had no snow to hamper their warmth-seeking adventure. Minerva had her paws up in the air, Hermione was flat on her back with her paws in the air as well, and both Minerva and Hermione were propped up against the largest cave lion known to Wizarding kind.

"I suppose neither of you would be interested in covering for Professor Belfry this afternoon?" Albus asked, stroking his beard. "I fear he's been called to take his mother to St Mungo's after an accident involving nifflers at Gringott's.

Severus growled, rolling onto his back. Minerva pulled Ottermione closer to her belly, and Hermione continued to peacefully snore on.

"Ah, well, had to ask," Albus said in a sing-song voice. "I'm sure Filius won't mind." The elder wizard shambled off.

Severus grunted, his tail whapping against the ground in semi-annoyance. Minerva cuddled Hermione close to her, grooming her fur as she would a kitten.

None of them moved until the last bit of sun disappeared.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Lucius made himself useful by assisting Hermione in learning typical royal courtly manners. Such things were pretty much pounded into Lucius' bones from an early age, and even Black assisted a little with certain customs amongst Dark magic users in societies where such things were normal. Black said his family was all about the manners and appearances, which was why he was not. He did, however, remember the lessons, he had just chosen not to use what he had learned. . For Hermione's sake, however, he gave her lessons hand in hand with Lucius, and Narcissa helped with the more feminine concerns of courtly manners.

Lily was utterly useless in that area, but she did provide Hermione with encouragement and the occasional hug to keep the poor otter from losing her cool. Otters were not exactly keen on courtly manners, being more prone to mischief, but having Severus and Minerva as mentors had given the young otter-witch far more patience than most her age.

It had taken Hermione about a week to recover from all the stress from between discovering the youngest male weasel sowing his oats with another student and finding out she was now, officially, sister to the crown prince of Bulgaria. All the documents that trickled down to that effect, the name changes on her Gringott's accounts, and so on and so forth just turned into a giant kettle of tired.

The name change was, perhaps, the most unexpected thing. Hogwarts still called her Miss Granger, but formally, she was Her Most Graceful Highness, Royal Majesty, Princess Hermione Granger Krum the First. Everyone was surprised that even fit on the signet ring. Even Lucius had trouble tripping over all of that name. Severus continued to call her Menace, Minerva called her "love," and the idiot she really wanted to call her by her full title and name could barely call her 'Mione without messing it up. Thank Merlin for the most part, if you were going to be formal, you only really had to address her as "Highness." Ever tried to keep a straight face as you look down at an otter covered in kelp and greet them as "Highness"? Prince Viktor was surely sitting on his royal throne-to-be having a good laugh at the goings on, Severus was certain . Sure, he was going to take up his responsibilities as crown prince, but he was taking his friends and family with him. Like it or not.

Potter's son and Draco tried to say her title a few times and ended up rolling their eyes so hard Minerva worried they would get stuck that way for life. Severus solved that problem by unobtrusively leaning over and smacking them both upside the head simultaneously and ordering them to finish their homework.

Truth to be told, nothing really changed except the paperwork names and the fact that when she went to Gringott's, she never had to wait in line and every time she had to sign something, she not only had to smash her paw into the wax, but she slammed her signet ring into it too.

Dr Maryann Reingold eyed Hermione at her next checkup, admiring her crown and all the extra bling.

"How do you swim with all that around your neck, Hermione?" Dr Reingold laughed. "Are you okay? Is it heavy?"

Hermione gave her a chain of squeaks.

"Ah, well, I suppose magic is useful like that," Maryann laughed. "You are in perfect health, as always, Hermione. You're growing like a weed."

Hermione made percolating sounds.

Maryanne laughed again. "Wings out please, Your Squeakiness."

Hermione obliged.

Maryanne checked her bone structure, wingspan, and condition of her fur and feathers. "Excellent. See you in a few months!"

Hermione squeaked decisively and tugged on a scroll, dragging it over.

"For me?" Dr Reingold asked.

Hermione crossed her paws across her body, looking very much like a miniature Snape.

Maryanne chuckled and opened the scroll. Her eyes widened. "Me? But I'm a squib!"

Hermione scowled down her muzzle, looking very much like Severus.

"Truly!" The marine biologist looked gobsmacked as she wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm honoured, Hermione. Of course I'll go as your guest."

Ottermione squeaked excitedly and placed her paws on the biologist's hand, and then disappeared out the door.

"Oof! Where are you flying off to in such a hurry, Menace?" Snape's voice grunted as he was slammed into by about thirty-three kilos of flying sea otter.

Dr Reingold smiled, clutching the scroll in her hand. No one would ever believe her if she told them the truth.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The hunt for the perfect wedding gift was a group affair, and Hermione picked an ideal place off the coast of West Africa to start the hunting. Draco and Harry were eager to help, Ron complained about being wet, Luna got distracted following African penguins and Cape Fur Seals, and Neville got distracted by about fifty "new and glorious plants" he'd never seen before.

They eventually found themselves on an island off the Algoa Bay somewhere off the coast of South Africa. It was too small to be named, unlike the nearby Stag and Seal Island, but it was perfect for their needs and blissfully unplottable. The nearest large coast held Port Elizabeth, Alexandria, Kenton-on-Sea, and Cannon Rocks, but their island was just far enough away to be "uninteresting" in comparison to the others. No one was there to question why people would just show up, and no one questioned their diving in the water with an otter in the wrong part of the ocean. Wizarding folk knew about it, but Muggles were thankfully unaware.

Draco had remembered stories of quite a few shipwrecks in the area as well as number of natural oyster beds that were under the radar of Muggle pearl harvesters. There was a good chance, he reckoned, that they would find something "good enough" for a future king. The "children" all sectioned off to search the ocean for perfect oysters, while Lily and Remus tended the crates of both supplies and acquired loot.

An African official Apparated in to check on them, making sure the paperwork for diving in the area was in order, and then wished them well on their hunt. He gave them a list of things to look for that were considered priceless relics, and implored them that if they should find anything of the sort to contact him. Lucius assured them that it would be done and thanked the man for allowing them to dive in this particular area.

Hermione discovered that the shark tooth pendant she was wearing had an unexpected benefit. She didn't have to come up for air while diving. The discovery had her zooming along under the surface of the waves and diving deeper than she ever had before, and Severus felt her ecstatic glee from the shore.

Harry and Draco were competing to see who could bring up the "gnarliest" looking oysters up from the sea bed, hoping that the most funky-looking ones would yield the better chance at pearls. Remus helped them stun the oysters in just the right way so they could check them for pearls and then return them to the oyster bed, also teaching them how to affix them back to their rocky beds without damaging them.

Lily mothered everyone, making sure everyone was fed and hydrated. She demanded everyone sit in the shade every so often and put on sunscreen, and Severus accused her of being excessively motherly.

Potter and Black were busy with their jobs, so they could not attend, but faithful Remus took the day off to assist. He was hardly one to turn down an opportunity to frolic on a distant beach.

Luna set up an umbrella on the shore and set up shop to clean and polish what may or may not have been treasure from the sea floor. She said she couldn't use sunscreen because it attracted Nargles, but she dutifully tended the objects brought up from the safety of her beach umbrella.

Lucius and Severus went looking for shipwrecks, and Minerva went prowling around the island looking for outcrops, mineral deposits, and other such goodies.

Ron attempted to help, and succeeded to some degree by coming back with a large octopus clamped to his head. The boy was flailing and screaming (which was muffled somewhat by the cephalopod on his head) that there was a giant flexible spider trying to eat him alive. He ran up and down the shore, tripping over random things and his own feet until finally Remus tackled him to the ground in order to pry the clingy animal off his head.

"It's not a spider, Ronald," Lupin sighed. "It's an octopus."

"Eight legs means spider!" Ron protested.

"Tentacles are more like arms than legs," Luna said casually, flipping a page in her book.

Ron looked green. "Arms, legs, they are all horrible!"

Lupin hoisted the octopus into the air. "Well, at least we have lunch."

"W—what?" Ron squeaked.

Remus lugged the octopus to the camp and prepared it barbecue style for lunch while the other were still out in the water. By the time they came in with their next haul, lunch was ready, and Ottermione looked super-excited. Her nose was twitching happily as she recognised the smell.

Ron looked dubious about eating anything "with that many arms," but ended up being shown up by Luna, who grabbed one tentacle and proceeded to gnaw on it hungrily. Ottermione seemed to approve, and mirrored her, mimicking Luna's movements with her typical finesse.

"Hey, this is actually good!" Ron exclaimed, looking surprised.

Draco and Harry sighed at him, sipping their lemonade in between bites of their lunch. They had been working hard in the water, and the rocks were starting to look good to eat. They weren't quibbling over tasty food that Remus made, regardless of whose head it was latched onto an hour before.

Lily applied more sunscreen on everyone before they went back into the ocean, spouting something about sun protection factor, but the kids weren't listening. They tolerated her ministrations and then dove back into the water.

Lucius and Severus succeeded in finding a wreck wedged between deep boulders near the continental shelf. It was hidden in a haze of gaseous bubbles that Severus suspected were noxious gases. After adjusting the Bubble-head charms to filter gases, they disappeared into the wreck for quite some time.

As it started to get later, Lily called a halt to the finding of treasure for the finding of dinner, and had everyone bring in things for their evening meal. Ron refused to get attacked by another "flexible sea spider" despite how tasty it was, but Harry and Draco put their hands in front of their faces and wiggled their fingers at each other. Laughing, they dove back into the water as Ottermione took off in another direction, all of them hunting for tasty things to bring back as food.

Minerva came padding back with spoils from some interesting mineral deposits just as the boys returned with an impressive collection of prawns and a large sea bass that was large enough to feed at least three people named Sirius Black. Remus laughed as the boys struggled to drag it up the beach. They had apparently stupefied the fish while it was in the water, but it shook it off halfway up the beach. The boys yelled as they chased the flopping bass across the beach, landing on top of it before it went back to the ocean it so desperately wanted to get back to.

Ottermione returned with a giant rock lobster that was larger than she was. She dragged it by the end of the tail with her paws digging into the sand and flopped in front of Lily, panting.

Lily soothed the young otter-witch with her hand and smiled. "Always have to show the boys up, don't you?"

Ottermione squeaked pleasantly.

Severus and Lucius came out of the water together, carrying what seemed like a chest of some sort between them. The chest was blackened with tarnish and covered with barnacles and other sea growths. They heaved it between them, seemingly exhausted from their hunt. With a tired sigh, they plunked it down in the sand under Luna's umbrella.

Severus had a serious expression on his face, at least to those who could tell the difference in his expressions. He spoke to Lucius in soft tones, gesturing, and that attracted one curious Ottermione as surely as shiny objects and sea urchins.

Lily lifted her head the moment she heard Severus' voice rumble, "Menace, attend." That tone was Severus' all-business voice.

Ottermione bounced towards him, squeaking curiously. He handed her a scroll. She grasped it with her paws, launched into the air, and disappeared with a crack.

"Sev, what is it?" Lily questioned.

Lucius looked towards Lily. "We may have found something… important."

Lily scratched her head and frowned. "Is that treasure? From a wreck?"

"A wreck, yes," Severus said, "but not just any wreck."

Lucius arched a brow. "We cannot be sure until Hermione returns."

When Hermione returned, she brought with her the official that had visited with them previously along with three others. Each of them bowed as they came in, making a beeline towards Lucius and Severus. Hermione landed in Lily's lap with a squeak and closed her eyes, tired.

The men stood around the chest, talking excitedly. One man took pictures. Another was scribbling away in a notebook, and another was measuring the chest extensively. Then, after a flurry of examination of the outside, the official nodded to Severus. Severus waved his wand and the chest opened with a crack, exposing the contents within.

Gasps came from all the men gathered around the chest. Severus' eyebrows went into his hair, which was tantamount to the same thing. Lucius tilted his head to the side, which was his version of Severus' eyebrow.

"Merlin be praised," the official gasped.

"As perfect as the day they were lost," the other man said, scribbling in his notebook frantically.

The man with the camera was taking many pictures as the others helped dump the contents onto the blanket Luna had laid out for cleaning their hauls.

Everyone was curious, now, and they gathered around the upturned chest.

"Are those galleons?" Harry asked.

"Doubloons, most likely," Draco supposed. "Those are pure gold."

Luna peered at the coins. "Those are florins. These are older than the ones they found from Edward III. Look, see the writing around the crown."

"How do you know this stuff, Luna?" Harry boggled.

Ottermione squeaked.

"Good idea," Snape said, translating. "Stasis spell, quickly, before the open air tarnishes them."

Lucius nodded, waving his wand. A soft blue glow descended upon the exposed coins.

"You've done us a great service," the elder wizard said. His dark brown eyes scanned the spoils. "You do us great honour doing what most would not. We will have them preserved, and move the site you found to a new location so that two or three of these coins may be 'found' and recovered. The rest we preserve away from greed and prying eyes. We will contact the proper Muggle channels once our work is done. This is beyond words, my British friends. We have had countless people visit our many islands. All of them we have asked the same we asked of you. Only you have delivered."

Lucius exchanged a glance with Severus. "It was the right thing to do."

The elder wizard gestured to the others, and they gathered the chest and coins up and Apparated out with a bow. "I cannot say I am sorry you didn't find something less significant for your quest, but I think I can help you with something that may be better."

The man stroked his head and pulled a card out of his robes. "Take your pearls, minerals, and corals to him. He is the best artisan that Africa has ever seen. They say, he whispers to gold and silver and it bends to his will alone. If anyone can make something for you with what you have, it is he. Tell him that Folami Sekibo sent you. Tell him the sun rises in the north. He will help you, and you will not be disappointed."

Folami extended his hand to each of the adults, clasping their hands as he learned their names.

He introduced himself to each of the children and seemed to take special care in pronouncing each of their names correctly. As he knelt in the sand and extended his hand to Hermione, she placed her paw on his finger and squeaked at him. "And you, Lady Hermione, I shall not forget any time soon."

"Many will never know what has happened here today," Sekibo said after a while, "but if you are ever in need while traveling in the lands of Africa, my friends, you need only ask. You will always be welcome here. Perhaps, one day, when you are on holiday, I will show you real lions, cheetahs, leopards, and rhinos. There is so much more than that to see."

The gathered children perked significantly.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, my friends," Sekibo said with a smile. He nodded to them all and disappeared with a crack.

"Well then," Remus said cheerfully. "I think we deserve a to sit down and enjoy this dinner that everyone has worked hard to provide."

"At least Black isn't here trying to cook," Severus noted. " We'd all be dead within minutes."

"That's not nice, Severus!" Lily admonished.

"No," Minerva quipped. "It's true. I've tasted his cooking."

Lily stared at McGonagall with a huff, clearly not happy with the Animagus supporting the defamation of her friend.

Ottermione squeaked a chain of otterese.

Severus picked her up with a sly grin. "You are correct, Menace."

Lily stared at Ottermione who stared back at her with wide, adorable eyes.

"Oooooh, you… you!" she sputtered.

No one but Minerva noticed Severus passing Hermione a piece of clam before they all sat down to enjoy their dinner.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Are you really… Her Most Graceful Highness, Royal Majesty, Princess Hermione Granger Krum the First?" Ginny asked, sitting next to Hermione as she stood over her cauldron, gesturing with her paws.

Hermione smacked Ginny's hand away from the ingredients when she got too close, squeaking at her.

"Ooops, sorry," Ginny apologised. "Oh, the serious face. I didn't think otters had the serious face until I met you."

Hermione glowered down her muzzle, Snape style.

Ginny flushed, turning away to get her composure. Sometimes, Hermione looked a little too much like Snape, which was rather amazing for an otter.

The magical slate worked nearby. "Yes. It's a mouthful," Hermione wrote.

Hermione tossed in a pinch of something foul, stirred the cauldron anti-clockwise and waited, tapping her claws against her chest fur with a very familiar action.

"Royalty. I've never met royalty," Ginny confessed. "Mum said way, way, way back on the Prewett side we had royalty, but she lost track of them when they moved out of the country. They were on mum's side of the family, not dad's."

Ottermione squeaked, pointing at the slate. "Why did they move?"

Ginny shook her head. "She doesn't talk about it much. Big argument about something. I know it's the reason we don't go to the cottage on the beach anymore. We always called it Shell Cottage when I was little. It's outside of Tinworth in Cornwall. It was always so beautiful and peaceful. Then, one day, we weren't allowed to go there anymore. Every time I'd ask, Mum would burst into tears and tell me not to talk about it."

Ottermione stirred the cauldron, stared into it, tossed in something green, stirred it again, then waited again. The slate erased and worked again, "sounds like more than an argument."

Ginny nodded. "Bill remembers my Aunt and Uncle much better than I do. Percy might, but he doesn't talk to anyone anymore. Charlie is off taming dragons, and sometimes I think it's because he agrees with the other side of that unknown argument."

Hermione waved her paws, and magic shot out of her eyes into the cauldron. She sniffed the potion inside, squeaked victoriously, and flew over to Snape's desk and picked up a decanter. She flew it back over to the desk, grabbed a special ladle between her teeth, and transferred the potion into the decanter.

"What is that, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

Hermione squeaked at her.

"Hermione! I don't understand you!"

Hermione huffed, pointing at the slate. "Tears of Mnemosyne Elixir."

"WHAT?!" Ginny squealed.

Ottermione glared at her.

"That's illegal!" Ginny complained.

Ottermione pointed to the slate. "Regulated. Not illegal."

Ginny made a face. "Why do you need Fears of Mne… that?"

The otter slammed the cork on the decanter, twisted it to make sure it was secure, and let out a long, suffering sigh. She pointed to the slate. "Why else?"

"You're going to steal someone's memories?" Ginny panicked. "Who? How is that possible? Are they at the school?"

Hermione proved that yes, it was possible for an otter to roll her eyes.

"Has it occurred to you, Miss Weasley," a low voice purred venomously, "that perhaps my apprentice is brewing something because that is her job?"

Ginny squealed, falling off the stool she was sitting on and crashing unceremoniously to the floor.

Both Snape and Ottermione had pinched the bridges of their noses simultaneously, one by hand, the other by paw.

Snape shook his head and lifted the decanter, swirling the contents around as he stared at it. "The colour is perfect and the consistency… slightly thin. Did you use the agrippa?"

Ottermione squeaked.

"We're out?" Snape asked, surprised. "Ah, so you used bundimun secretions. That explains the thinner consistency. Did you add a pinch of sal ammoniac to stabilise it?"

Ottermione replied with a series of squeaks.

"Excellent," Snape replied. "Very good, Menace."

Ginny picked herself off the floor. "How do you understand her?" she complained.

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he glowered at Ginny, causing her to swallow hard and desperately look about for an exit strategy.

Then, like a miracle wrapped in heavenly chords, the bell rang.

"Ah, Hermione, I'll see you later, aye?" Ginny ran out the door.

"Five points from Gryffindor for running in the classroom, Miss Weasley!" Snape snapped.

Ottermione squeaked something simultaneously.

Severus looked down at Hermione, a small quirk of a smile on his lips. "Seven points, Menace?"

Ottermione squeaked unquestionably, pointing with her tail.

Ginny's forgotten books lay scattered over the laboratory floor.

"Hn, point made," Snape replied, walking off with the decanter. "Do tell Minerva that Miss Weasley has detention with Mr Filch after dinner."

Ottermione squeak bounced down from her laboratory station and jumped into a puddle in the back of the laboratory, disappearing with a sploosh.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Well, well," Filch gloated. "If it isn't Her Royal Highness herself. Come to rain down upon those lower than you?"

Ottermione pounced on Mrs Norris and they went tumbling down the corridor, chasing each other up and down it until the otter landed on top of the cat, and both panted heavily.

Filch's face turned from a scowl to a small smile. "It's been a while, Mistress Squeak," Argus crooned. "Too busy to visit?"

Ottermione made a sad sound, hanging her head.

Argus held out his arms, and Ottermione bounced up to him and leapt into his arms, squeaking and rubbing her head against his chest.

"I suppose I forgive you," Argus soothed, petting her. "Oof, you're getting too large to carry around. You don't fit in my pocket anymore."

Hermione stuck her nose into his pocket and chirped sadly.

"Ach," Argus muttered. "We all grow up. Can't be hiding in pockets forever. Just look at Mrs Norris. She used to fit in my pocket too."

"Mrrrow," Mrs Norris replied, rubbing up against Filch's feet.

Hermione looked into Argus' pocket and back down at Mrs Norris. She chirped incredulously.

"It's true," Argus replied.

Hermione yawned toothily, but pulled something out from under her arm and held it out with both paws.

"Oh, what's this, now? Filch asked, skeptical.

Hermione nudged him with her nose, whiskers twitching.

Argus unwrapped the small package and make a clucking sound with his teeth. "Ahh, my pain rub. My aching muscles thank you, Miss Squeak."

Ottermione squeaked in affirmative, rubbing her whiskers against his chin.

Filch rubbed her head and set her down on the ground. She head-bonked Mrs Norris and bounced around with her a few moments before squeaking a goodbye as she bounce-slid down the corridor and disappeared.

"Hasn't slowed down since she was a wee little thing and liked to jump into my buckets," Filch said, shaking his head as it picked up Mrs Norris.

"Mrrrow."

"No buckets for you, eh, my girl?" Filch asked Mrs Norris.

"Mrrow!"

Argus chuckled, wandering down the hall. He had a detention to look over soon. It wouldn't be good to be late.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Snape was having a very bad class. He wasn't sure if everyone drank a befuddlement potion or if everyone had hit each other with Confundus charms before coming to Potions, but it seemed like there wasn't one student in the class that wasn't messing something up.

He'd correct one mistake, and another would pop up, and it was starting to feel like the Muggle game where you bash the groundhog over the head with a mallet. Ottermione was going from table to table, assisting him with corrections, and even Her Royal Mistress of Squeak was losing her patience with all the problems going on. He could tell from the cloud of frustrated thoughts that resembled something that came out of Black's potty mouth more than Hermione's normal great understanding and patience.

It was halfway into the class, with all the students attempting to brew burn paste , that things started to go from bad to worse. Mr Melrose from Gryffindor sneezed into his burn paste at a critical stage and it exploded on him, turning him a very unattractive shade of puce. Miss Parker from Slytherin ended up creating salamanders in her cauldron, and they crawled out of her tipped cauldron and made every girl on that side of the room scream in terror. Mr Longbottom had started getting impatient with Mr Finnigan, and both boys looked like they were going to have at each other in front of everyone. Messrs Potter and Weasley were attempting to collaborate, but Potter was pointing to his book telling the Weasel that it needed to be stirred anti-clockwise, and Weasley was telling him that he'd already stirred it clockwise and nothing had happened.

There was a sudden burbling sound, and Snape knew he wasn't going to get there in time to contain it.

BOOM!

Crabbe and Goyle had managed to turn Draco into a three-headed dog, Finnigan had blown up his cauldron around the same time, adding scalding hot liquids to the panic induced by said dog, and Messrs Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom had managed combine their spilled cauldrons to make a burn paste that actually spontaneously set itself on fire and burned you instead of healing the skin. So, when the entire vat fell on the floor and panicking children slipped and fell all over it, they started screaming hysterically as their skin started to burn.

To make matters worse for all involved, not only was Draco running around as a three-headed canine that could barely fit through a door, but Hermione had been caught in the explosion and thrown squeaking in terror into the botched burn ointment. This, of course, set her on fire, and if the smell of burning fur wasn't enough to warn the students of what was to come, then they hadn't been paying attention at all in the past five years.

Snape came unglued, sending his Patronus in the same breath as he slammed a sort of bubble over the burning area. The flames died down almost immediately, but the students caught in it were then struggling to breathe—the bubble had apparently deprived the fire and the students of oxygen in an effort to put it out. The moment he dispelled the anti-oxygen bubble, the fire came back thanks to whatever magic botch had gone into its making, and in the meantime, one panicked, burning otter was frantically trying to roll on the floor to put out the flames.

Everywhere the otter rolled, bits of flaming ointment rubbed off, and Snape seemed to realise that a new strategy was required for containment of the epic botch. Swearing in a string of curses that would have made Sirius Black proud if not envious, Snape hit Hermione with a spell, and the burning otter was de-furred, her flaming fur lay in a pile under her. Ottermione squeaked in even more terror, having never been naked in her entire otter life.

As reinforcements from the staff came running into the laboratory, Minerva looked to Severus for some cue as to what was going on.

"Deprive it of oxygen, Minerva," Snape yelled, "or deprive it of fuel."

Dumbledore came in after Minerva, and as McGonagall contained the flames on the floor and tables, Dumbledore managed to pull the flaming ointment off each of the burning students at along with a few layers of their epidermis and clothing.

The good news was that the fire was out and the children were breathing.

The bad news was, the affected were quite naked, hairless, and mortified.

Flitwick rushed in during the aftermath, and seeing the problem, transformed beakers into blankets and covered up the crying children. He then escorted them to the Hospital Wing without a further word.

That was around the time that Dumbledore and McGonagall spotted Draco in all his three-headed glory, curled up with with the de-furred and traumatised otter shivering between his paws. Dumbledore, seeing that it was taking every amount of effort and self-control for Snape to not murder the culprits of the chain of events that had led to the burning of half the class, transformation of Draco, and torture of his familiar, turned to the guilt-ridden and amazingly unharmed students who were trying to unobtrusively sneak out the back of the classroom.

Dumbledore, who looked far more serious than anyone had ever remembered seeing him in a very long time, said, "I think you lot and I need to have a discussion. To my office. Now, please. Minerva, if you could please ensure that Miss Granger-Krum is taken care of along with her three-headed friend?" The Headmaster followed the shamed and trembling students out of the classroom laboratory.

Minerva needed no prodding, as she scooped up the furless otter into her arms and wrapped her securely in her robes.

Draco whined, snuffling Hermione with all three heads.

"Mr Malfoy, is that you?"

Malfoy barked an affirmative.

"What is it with this school and turning each other into animals?" Minerva groaned. She turned to see Snape, his face ashen and his knuckles white, his hands trembling with effort to contain the swirl of emotions that were tormenting him.

Minerva's face changed into understanding. She brought Hermione over to him. "There,now, you see? She'll be fine. We just need to take her to Poppy, Severus." She opened the folds of her robe to expose Hermione's disturbingly smooth face and pink skin.

Severus made a half-choking sound as his hands scooped her up out of Minerva's arms and cradled her against him. He folded his robes around her body and muttered into her ear , his aquiline nose pressed into her pink skin.

Hermione placed a paw against his nose, squeaking softly.

Snape swept hurriedly from the room in a blur of fabric.

Minerva stared at Draco, rubbing her temples.

Fwoop!

Draco was sitting on the laboratory floor with his foot up to his ear as he was scratching himself.

Minerva sighed. "Well, at least you weren't stuck like that, Mr Malfoy. I recommend you going to see Madam Pomfrey to make sure there aren't any unforeseen side effects."

Draco didn't need to be told twice, and he hustled out the door and away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus gently soothed the ointment into Ottermione's skin, far more relieved to see that she seemed to enjoy the sensation of his massage despite her undignified lack of fur. Poppy had given him an ointment she often had to use on the other familiars when they had gotten in trouble being set on fire or other such hazards of being a familiar. It seemed to be working as a thin coat of fuzz was beginning to grow over her pink skin.

Hermione squeaked softly, placing her paws on his fingers as he rubbed her ointment in. He made sure every bit of her was covered, and then attempted to keep her from squirming it off so it would soak in. It had taken every bit of control to keep from letting the entire classroom burn in favour of rushing to Hermione's side, and perhaps the only thing that had stopped him was that she had stopped burning and had exchanged terror for mortification.

The brown fuzz growing on her skin reminded him of how she had looked back in her first year. Her otter baby-fuzz had made her look like a puffskein. Her older fur hadn't grown in completely, so every time she had gone swimming, which was often because she was an otter, he had to pull her into his lap and dry her off until she was obnoxiously fluffy and adorable.

Often times, it warmed her up that she wanted to head right back into the water, and the cycle was start over again. Any water had attracted her back then. Before he'd made the tidal pool, she'd float atop his bath water, and it didn't matter if he was in the bathtub trying to use it, either. If there was a place she could have both water and be with him at the same time, it was all the better.

Her propensity to find and swim in water had been so great, she had ended up befriending the crotchety old Mr Filch as well by hopping into his water buckets and doing what Ottermione did best: look adorable.

It was her superpower. Even now, as she lay on her back, squeaking adorably as he soothed her skin with healing ointment, she had that charm that made his scowl soften, his heart lighten, and that venom in his voice change to velvet.

"Insufferable girl," he admonished her. "You know better than to stand by an explosive cauldron."

Ottermione chirped at him sadly, placing her paw on his thumb. He examined the webbing on her paws and checked her flippers for skin damage, but it was all healing fine. The burns had mostly stayed with her fur, and that had been unceremoniously removed. Chalk one up for one thousand hairs per square inch.

The other children that had been taken by the flaming ointment, which Severus was starting to think had been magical napalm, were all healing fine, and the Headmaster had sent out owls to the parents to inform them of what had happened and requested they be sent a replacement set of robes due to the destruction of the ones they had been wearing . Thankfully, each child usually had more than one set of school robes, so it wasn't going to condemn the children to run around wearing blankets in the hallways until their parents sent them a replacement.

The house-elves quickly brought the spare robes to the affected students while they were still in the hospital wing, dignity was restored, and peace settled back on afflicted.

Severus blinked. Ottermione was sound asleep in the crook of his arm, peaceful and serene. Her mind was content, and he found that all the stress that had been bothering him before had simply drained away. He stood and swept from the Hospital Wing, his robes billowing behind him as he carried his familiar away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Revenge, Severus learned, was sweet, and he didn't even have to do anything himself save suffer the company of Messrs Potter, Weasley, Finnigan, Crabbe, and Goyle for a well-deserved late night of detention.

The group of them were scouring the cauldrons, cleaning the burn marks off the floor, repolishing the wooden lab tables, and using some sort of lemon-scented cleanser to remove the odor of burnt fur, hair, and skin from the very pores of the dungeon classroom.

Severus had left Hermione resting on his pillow back in the chambers, knowing that she would sleep longer with his scent around to wallow in than if he tried to set her down in her quarters. He felt her approaching long before he heard the tell-tale muffled splat of her paws hitting the stone as she popped out of the rear laboratory puddle. The side of his mouth quirked upward. He knew what was coming, and he busied himself grading the papers in front of him as obliviously as possible.

The boys were all bickering at each other, and so intent were they grumbling that they didn't hear the warning signs. Hermione didn't give many, save the splat of her feet and rear flippers as she landed on the laboratory floor. Each boy was scrubbing the cauldrons they had destroyed into a useable state, so their heads were in the cauldrons and their rears were sticking out.

Goyle and Crabbe were worried that the remnants of their potion might turn them into a three-headed canine, Finnigan mumbling something indistinct into the bottom of his cauldron, and Longbottom, Weasley, and Potter were worrying that the remnants of their cauldrons would mix again and set them all on fire again.

Severus smirked to himself. He'd cleaned the unstable and harmful chemicals out of the cauldrons before they had arrived, leaving them with the remains for their detention, so he knew there wasn't going to be a repeat performance.

Hermione had shifted into her cave lion form, and Severus had to admit she was impressive both in beauty and size. She towered over the lab tables, and would have given the triple-headed canine Draco a run for his money. She padded up to the boys, sat down, started off with a low rumbling "hhhrrrggggg hhhrrrrrrr hhrrrrrrr" and ended with a Sonorus-enhanced roar.

All the boys hit the rafters soon after, clinging to the ceiling like spiders. Weasley saw an actual spider while he was up there and screamed, falling back down to the floor in a clatter of noise as he landed hard in the pile of dirty cauldrons. Crabbe and Goyle were clutching each other as though their lives depended on it, and the remaining Gryffindors were trembling from the rafters as they stared down below with terrified eyes.

One squeaky, bouncy, Royal Highness of Mischief bounded around the floor, squeaking hysterically with ottery laughter as she made her way to Snape's desk and hid under his robes.

Snape continued to grade papers, pretending he hadn't noticed a thing, even as Weasley groaned from his place amongst the cauldrons.

"What the hell was that?" Goyle whinged.

Ottermione crawled into Snape's lap, hidden by the desk in front of him. He gently lay his hand across her back with a smug smile on his lips.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Black couldn't stop laughing. Hearing the story from Potter's owl had him snickering all through the day, and by the time Lupin came home from work Sirius had told everyone the story of his godson clinging to the rafters after a monster was set loose in the Potions laboratory. Lily had yelled at her husband for making fun of his own son instead of providing support and then yelled at Severus for scaring the boys with his cave lion form (mistakenly thinking it was his doing), but when she found out the reason why they had been in detention to begin with, she had sent her son a very Molly-esque howler. She also baked Severus and Hermione a large batch of her special Cookies of Apology for accusing Severus of scaring children with his Animagus form. Neither Severus, Hermione, or the Troublemaker Trio brought up to her that her "loving and adorable daughter" had been the one to go cave lion on her son and his friends' sorry bums. It was far too comical watching her rage at her son for being a complete toe-rag.

Sirius snuggled Her Most Furry and Royal Squeakiness and said she made them all proud. Remus had kissed her head as he whispered something into her ear, and Ottermione squeaked proudly.

Much to Severus' chagrin, Ottermione was accepted as a full-fledged Marauder, whether he had a say or not. She'd passed all the tests, pulled all the pranks, struck back with righteous retribution worthy of the Trickster Gods, and best of all, made her friends look like utter imbeciles. It was the Marauder way.

Though Severus wasn't one to speak of it, when all the festivities were done and Hermione snuggled up to him in his favourite armchair radiating contentment she wished only to share with him, he felt a sort of completeness that was undeniable. Hermione stirred against him, pulling out a hoarded Apology Cookie from her otter-pocket. She gnawed off half and stuffed the other half into his mouth, pressing it in with her paws as she stared up at him adoringly.

Severus did the only thing he could do. He chewed and swallowed, pulling his otter close and closing his eyes.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The school term ended without explosions and children being on fire, and for that both Severus and Minerva were thankful. They both took Hermione to Bulgaria to sit her Bulgarian exams, and the trio took an intensive course in essential Bulgarian which was magically enhanced by some sort of magic they knew they couldn't speak of back in Britain. They learned the basic culture, clothing, and customs as to not embarrass themselves or the people they were with, and they had lessons on how to threaten the Bulgarian press with their lives (which was apparently the status quo for dealing with the press in Bulgaria.)

While Hermione was sitting her Bulgarian magical exams, Severus and Minerva took theirs as a formality. While both of them were trusted professors with credentials in Britain, taking the tests in Bulgaria only reinforced their reputation that they weren't someone like Gilderoy Lockhart who was all talk and no skill.

Hermione was officially crowned a second time for the public, had many, many photo shoots with her brother, and had to pose for a family statue commission. All three of them were given seals on their signets that acted like translator, in the case they had to attend to official business to foreign nations, and the complexity of the Bulgarian royalty and their trusted Royal Guard became terribly clear. The Royal Alchemists crafted a special amulet for Hermione that set in her crown, and she found that people could now understand her squeaks when she willed it so.

The alchemists laughed when Ottermione fussed at them.

"How can this sort of thing exist and no one know about it outside Bulgaria?" she demanded.

"It is a special art, Highness," they placated. "Since the time of the first Shark King, our people have honed the art so that we may commune with our Kings. And now, you may commune with your people, Lady Hermione."

Ottermione scowled, projecting indignation that such a wonderful secret had not been revealed to her sooner. She chewed them out in a chain of Otterese that she didn't will them to understand. It didn't take translation to understand what she was squeaking.

"Forgive us, Highness," they bowed. "Had you been with us at an early age, we would have told you sooner."

Hermione sighed and waved them off with her paws, dismissing them in a very royal manner. She was learning fast.

"I didn't even know Bulgaria had a royal family," Hermione lamented.

" _сестра_ ," Viktor greeted from down the hallway, and Hermione forgot all of her frustration to bound over to greet him.

Viktor laughed as he picked the otter up and snuggled her closely. "My _sestra_ , my sister, you look radiant."

"Mistress and Professor McGonagall," Viktor greeted with a bow. "Master and Professor Snape. How good to see you both again with my dear sister."

"You pulled quite a stunt with that adoption, Mr Krum," Severus noted. "Your Highness."

Viktor waved them off. "You, like my sister, may call me Viktor. That is your right. Let no one tell you different. You are her most trusted, therefore, you are mine. Be welcome here." He smiled as he pressed his lips to Ottermione's head. "As for the adoption, well, she is worth it."

Viktor's smooth Bulgarian seemed like a purr so different from his broken and accented English. "How have your lessons gone? You understand me?"

Severus and Minerva nodded.

Viktor smiled genuinely. "Good. Now you know what it is like having too many languages swimming in your head." He winked.

Ottermione squeaked at him imperiously, and Viktor laughed.

"If I had known you were to be my sister back when you were eleven, my dear _sestra_ , I would have shared both my bloodline and my Alchemists long ago. Am sorry, _da_?" Viktor pressed his finger to her nose and smiled.

"I forgive you," Hermione squeaked, licking his finger.

"My heart is lightened," Viktor laughed. "I insist you stay for dinner. My favourite cook demands to impress, and guests are irresistible to the challenge. I will not hear the end of it for months if you deny me."

"How ever could we refuse," Minerva chuckled.

Viktor took her hand and pressed his lips to the top. "You cannot, my Lady." His black eyes sparkled.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The wedding was a glorious affair that took place on the cliffs overlooking the sea. The palace itself was built into the cliffs, layered with spells to both support and conceal it from Muggle detection.

All the guests were given a paper lantern that had the emblem of the shark emblazoned on it, and each person was instructed to make a wish for the new couple, light the lantern, and set it into the water.

Soon, thousands of lanterns were floating in the calm seas.

A bright staircase of shimmering marble lowered from the cliffs to the sea below, and there on a dais surrounded by the teal and aquamarine waters, officials stood waiting for the new couple to meet for the first time.

People lined up around the surrounding cliffs, looking down to the ceremony below.

As many waited, the still water trembled, and a large fin parted through it, slicing through the water like a knife. With a loud rumble that was almost a roar, Viktor arrived in his shark form, baring his mouth with its multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth. He beached himself on the platform, tail up, mouth open as the official spoke in the roar over the sounds of the ocean.

"Our ancient Shark King once lay upon this very rock," the official announced. "Years lonely, without the brave to speak to him… but one day, the love of a mother broke the curse that trapped him thus, allowing him to walk the earth again in human form. But he was now a part of the sea, and sea was a part of his people. He could no more be just a man or just a king."

The official raised his hands up, holding up an ornate staff. "The sea claimed our king for half his time, but half his time he gave to his people. It was a lonely sentence for a lonely man."

The man looked up to where a woman draped in a long, white veil slowly made her way down the marble staircase.

"But, one day, a brave woman walked down into the sea and met the lonely king as he swam in the ocean as the shark, for she was lonely too. Her heart was drawn to the sea, but so, too, was she drawn to the man."

"She prayed to the ancient gods to allow her to bring peace to the Shark King's heart, allowing her tears to flow and join the salt of the sea, and when the King did rise from the water, beaching himself upon the rock to stare at this woman who dared to shed tears for him, she did press her lips to his skin and embrace the sea."

"And the sea answered both prayers," the man proclaimed. "For the sea both takes away and provides. The sea is both the end and the beginning, and it is here where one life ends, and the new one begins."

"We are gathered here today to witness the start of a miracle," the man announced. "We are here to witness the end of two lives apart and the beginning one together. It is here where magic is proven, and hearts are judged worthy. May the sea judge us all worthy of the next Shark King to watch over his people until the sea swallows all."

All were silent, save the sounds of the sea and the screams of the gulls along the shore. The woman in the veil approached the giant shark, dwarfed by his size. She pulled back her veil and placed her hands on the shark's upper lip, her hands dwarfed by the size of his teeth.

"Until the sea swallows all," she announced, pressing her lips to the shark's nose, and a burst of magic blasted outwards in a nova, sending all the lanterns spinning in the water.

The overpowering scent of the sea blew over the gathered guests and dignitaries as the roaring sound of the surf filled every ear, and there on the dais was the great shark. Beside him, nose pressed against his body, was an hourglass dolphin. Her black and white body shining with the dampness of the sea. The pair slid into the water and took off into the ocean. They breached the surface of the water together. They swam side by side, and after a long circular path, they beached themselves together upon the dais rock as man and woman.

Viktor leaned in and pressed his mouth to his wife's, and another blast of magic exploded outward.

"Ladies and Gentle Witches and Wizards," the announcer said. "I give you our Royal Highnesses, Prince Viktor and Princess Nikolina. May the seas and land be as one under their most joyous and merciful reign."

Cheers went up over the cliffside as all the lanterns seemed to glow even brighter. Magical, ethereal sharks swam in the air with a multitude of cetaceans, reaching ever higher towards the sky full of stars.

At the top of the dais, Ottermione pressed her head into Severus Snape's pale hand as she nipped McGonagall's hand in her mouth and dragged it over to herself. Both professors lay their hands upon her head as she gave a soft squeak of happiness, tears running down her otter muzzle.

Everything was as it should be.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The reception was a much more casual affair, or at least far less wet. Giant feasting halls were opened up. Piles of gifts were gathered in the center for the newlyweds, and food, dance, and drink were to be found everywhere. Seafood of the likes many had never seen lined the tables, and every dish had a smaller and more otter-friendly sampling thanks to some foresight on someone's part.

Severus saw Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco schmoozing with the Bulgarian socialites. He chuckled when he heard the Bulgarians talking in broken English as the Malfoys returned with broken Bulgarian. Fortunately, Hermione had hinted that they should brush up on their Bulgarian before the wedding, so they weren't completely up the creek without a paddle, but he found it amusing that, even in a short time, he and Minerva had surpassed what most people would learn in years. He said a silent thank you to the magic he wasn't able to talk about in British company and to Viktor for making it happen.

Minerva was having pleasant conversation with the family of the bride, and Ottermione was pursued by quite a few eligible bachelors that were fascinated by Viktor's sister. Oddly enough, the Bulgarians didn't seem to think Hermione's condition was anything out of the ordinary. They had a shark for a king, after all, he supposed they took a lot of things far better than the English.

Ottermione's dance card was quite full, and just when she thought she was done, she was swept off to dance again. It took Viktor tapping the shoulder of the latest in the line to rescue his otterly sister from the attention. He swept her across the dance floor, then picked up his wife, and the trio danced together. It was altogether touching, and Severus wasn't sure whether to be happy or ill.

When the trio returned to the main table, it was considered safe for conversation. No one, save the family and the Royal Guard were allowed there, and that made Severus blissfully happy.

"My family was originally from England," Nikolina said as she took a break from the outer circle socialising. My grandmother lived in Cornwall before she moved to Bulgaria. I have pictures in my scrapbook. It was a beautiful cottage by the sea with many shells on the beach. I wish I could have seen it for real."

Ottermione perked at the mention of the cottage on the beach. "Where in Cornwall?" she squeaked, making use of her crown.

Nikolina pondered. "I think it was near Tinworth. My mother tried to get the information from grandmother, but grandmother is so stubborn. She says 'long time ago, no time for that rubbish'."

Ottermione's brain-gears were turning almost audibly. She had put two and two together and gotten pi, and it was stoking her curiosity something fierce.

"Why do you ask, Hermione?" Nikolina asked.

Hermione tilted her head as she passed the butter down the table with her paws. "This sounds like too much of a coincidence, but I know someone from school who told me a story of her aunt who had a cottage on the beach near Tinworth, Cornwall. She said they just moved away one day, and no one knew why."

"Now, that is fascinating!" Nikolina exclaimed. "Please, tell me more."

"Do you know much of your grandmother's family?" Ottermione asked.

"Nana's surname was Prewitt," Nikolina said. "That was before she married Yosif Konstantinov. She had one sister named Molly. I wasn't supposed to know that, but I found an old photograph with the name written on it when I was sneaking into Nana's attic box."

Ottermione grinned, showing her pointed teeth. She liked Nikolina just fine.

"I found this," Nikolina said, pulling out a necklace. She showed it to Hermione. It was a dark brown and white shell. "It was so beautiful and I couldn't bear to leave it in that musty old attic, so I… nicked it."

Ottermione squeaked happily. She really liked Nikolina now.

"I've always been drawn to the sea," she confessed. "Now, I know why. I was so worried when _maĭka_ told me that I was promised to be wed. She said I could not have boyfriend. No, that's not true. She said I could not keep a boyfriend. I didn't understand that until later. A child does not understand betrothed."

"So young?" Hermione squeaked. "I'm still not sure what to think about boys."

Nikolina grinned at her. "I'll tell you a secret. I didn't either for a long time. One day, you think you know, and that's even more terrifying."

Hermione nodded affirmative, and the bond between Viktor's sister and his wife seemed cemented. "I will tell you something too," Hermione squeaked lowly, placing her paw on Nikolina's hand. She slid her eyes over to look towards the table where the Weasleys were partaking of the food, punch, and conversation. "That woman over there is Molly Weasley. Her surname when she was a child was Prewitt."

Nikolina's eyes grew very, very wide. "Truth?"

Hermione nodded with a squeak.

Nikolina kissed Hermione's paws. "I love you! If this is true. I finally get to meet my great aunt!" She stood from the table and scurried off towards the Weasley table, her Royal Guard scrambling to stay by her side.

"Menace," Severus grunted.

"Master?" Hermione squeaked adoringly.

"What have you done?"

"Reunited possible relatives?" Hermione asked, looking upwards.

There was a commotion shortly after as one Molly Weasley passed out by the punch table.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "So, that is what they are calling that now?"

Hermione squeaked in mortification and hopped into Severus' lap instinctively to burrow into his robes.

Ron's squealing voice blurted, "I'm related to who?!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Unfortunately for Ron, or fortunately, depending on how one looked on it, back when his aunt split from the family to move to Bulgaria, there had been a very heated and intense argument that had led to some very old disowning spells. While technically, genetically, they were relations, Nikolina's grandmother's branch of the family had been so ostracised and shunned by Molly's due to Molly's sister, Margaret, marrying into a "known Dark family": the Konstantinovs. Molly's parents had threatened to annul the marriage with magic, refusing to acknowledge her love was to a man, not the scion spawned by an infamously Dark wizarding family. Margaret and Yosif had lived peacefully at Shell Cottage for years until Molly's parents stormed in and tried to take their baby: Nikolina's mother, Meredith. It had been "to save the pure child from the Dark wizard's magic." Molly had arrived just in time to hear her parents, champions of the Light, casting the spell to disown their daughter from the family.

Molly had tried to stop it, but it was too late. Yosif gathered his family to him and Disapparated. Yosif's family went to a close family friend and they had adopted Margaret into the family with blood magic, making her a Lazarov. Thus Margaret Lazarov married Yosif Konstantinov, and that particular branch of magical genetics was cut from the wizarding line of Prewitt. Meredith, their daughter, was a Konstantinov, and Nikolina was even further removed from the Prewitts than her mother before her.

So, while on a mundane level of genetics, the two families were connected, magically, they were as different as a grasshopper and a falcon. Magic and intent were the only things that mattered in the end.

All of this information came spewing out of Molly as she lay on a settee in a small, private chamber in the palace. Decades of guilt and missing her older sister had built up into shameful amount of emotional pain. Adding a helping of denial and the censorship that came with not being able to talk about it with your own family had just made it worse as time went on. Eventually, Molly had tried to pretend it had never happened, but the guilt still chewed at her.

However, Nikolina proved to be the compassionate future queen she was born to be. She reunited Margaret with Molly, and for the first time in decades, the two sisters embraced, shedding the tears, hatred, and pain that their family had cast upon them both. While they were no longer related by magic, they had healed their bond as two sisters who had grown up together. Margaret got to meet the children who would have been her youngest nephew and niece, as she had not been able to meet them after their family had fled to Bulgaria.

Ginny was giddy with excitement meeting Margaret, but Ron was rather subdued about it.

"I don't think I could handle all this bowing every day," Ron whispered. "All this remembering people's titles, knowing where they came from, who they know. That's just too much to remember. That, and you pick your nose and someone is there to give you a hanky. No privacy at all."

"Should be used to that, brother," Fred and George chimed.

Ron flushed and not so politely told the twins where to stick it.

-o-o-o-o-o-

While Molly and the rest of the Weasley family retired off to a private place to converse with Margaret, the rest of the reception was going strong. Ottermione took it upon herself to introduce Doctor Reingold to her somewhat newly-acquired family. The marine biologist had a lost expression on her face, having witnessed a magical wedding unlike anything she had ever imagined.

"Hello, Doctor," Viktor greeted, bringing his lips to the top of her hand. "Pleasure to meet you at last. Sister says you keep her healthy."

Reingold flushed. "Professors Snape and McGonagall do that. I simply measure the results."

"I have studied your work with endangered species in Muggle world," Viktor noted. "Very strong work. Keep our oceans clean."

Maryann bowed her head. "Thank you, your Highness. That means a lot to me."

Viktor clicked his heels together. "Enjoy your stay with us, Doctor," he said smoothly. "Honour to meet. If you ever require… persuasion in your field, you will let my sister know, _da_?"

Maryann blinked. "I will be sure to tell her, thank you, your Highness."

Viktor gave a dark, tight smile that said far more than words could. "Good." With that, he wandered off to speak with others, leaving Dr Reingold feeling a little like she had just been left capsized at sea.

Ottermione squeaked at her from her feet.

Maryann smiled down at her. "Does he always have such an authoritative bearing?"

Hermione squeaked, "He's Durmstrang, and he's Bulgarian. It's in his bones."

"He's very… imposing," the doctor confessed.

Hermione had her nose in the air, sniffing the nearby table for something that interested her. Out of nowhere, a hand reached over, grasped a fresh clam from the table, and passed it to her.

Hermione squeaked happily.

"You are welcome, Highness," the man said, disappearing as mysteriously as he arrived.

Maryann could only stare.

Hermione bashed the clam open on the nearby pillar with a crack, happily devouring the inside. She eyed Maryann with her brown eyes. "You should try the clams, they are superb."

"I think I will, thank you," Reingold replied with a smile.

Hermione squeaked, nodded, and bounce-slid off to mingle with another group.

Something seemed to hit Maryann. "How did I understand her?"

Hermione, unfortunately, was not there to answer her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Rita Skeeter had a plan, and so far, the plan was working.

It had taken a little wheel-greasing, some really good tips, and some expertly fabricated paperwork that had cost quite a bit, but she was in the most highly-anticipated society event of the century: the wedding of the next Bulgarian king, who also happened to be none other than Viktor Krum, the most talented Seeker in the world.

She interviewed the brooding teenage heartthrob during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but he had not been very talkative. Instead he stared at her with his dark, dark eyes while saying nothing juicy at all. At the time, she had thought him too simple, perhaps too much brawn and physical skill but no brains. His coming out as the next in line to the Bulgarian throne, however, proved exactly why he'd been so silent.

That meant he had secrets that people would pay extra to know. They might even pay even more so people wouldn't know. Either way would work for her. She had found plenty of ways to get what she wanted out of people.

This Viktor Krum, prince or no, had plenty of shady dealings she could report on. His new sister, for example, happened to be the lowly Muggle-born offspring of two dentists in London. To top it all off, she'd been an otter since she was eleven thanks to an incompetent pair of students at Hogwarts. She was a nobody. The only thing that made her special was that she managed to do what any perfectly respectable student would do as an otter. Well, any Animagus could do that. All the pretentious little rodent had going for her was a bag of little tricks to make the ordinary seem extraordinary. Psh. Anyone could train a rat to go through a maze for food.

Rita had done a lot of research on one Hermione Granger and her little sob story that her parents didn't want her anymore. Boo-hoo. Nothing really juicy there. She had a feeling she was thrown out of her Hogwarts' house as well, but she couldn't prove it. Every time she sneaked into Hogwarts hoping to get a fresh scoop, the Muggleborn rat would disappear down the hallways before she could catch up to her or she would always be with that beak-nosed, greasy-haired git who taught Potions. Worse still, she would go suck up to that infuriatingly observant cat, McGonagall, do her little pony show to show off how talented she was, and the elder witch would coo over her like she was something so special.

Just when she had thought she managed to get her hooks into that interfering little furball, the little vermin bounced her way into the Headmaster's office and just had to go beg for a lemon drop. The Headmaster patted her on the head and congratulated her on her superb test scores. Like she actually accomplished anything more than parroting back book knowledge. Please. Just as the conversation had started to turn more interesting, she bounced over to visit that damn phoenix, and that stupid bird groomed Rita out of her fur and forced her to fly out the window before the bloody bird decided to eat her.

Rita had tried to double back and re-enter through the window, but Dumbledore had shut the windows to keep his papers from blowing off his desk. Infuriating.

But now, Rita had her special weapon and a plan. She would finally get her quill on all the dirt about Viktor and that social-climbing furry tartlet he called a sister, and then everyone would know. She had one full vial of Veritaserum. It had cost her far too many galleons, but it would be worth it in the end. She had her specially designed fingernail that would deliver the perfect three drops needed to have every person she gave a drink singing her song: the siren song of stolen secrets.

Rita decided to start small, just to make sure that the man who had sold her the Veritaserum hadn't given her defective merchandise. She shared a drink with a guest from Wales, drilling her for anything useful. Unfortunately, the boorish woman could only speak of some sort of wildlife trust she was forming, and that wasn't useful at all.

Rita's second mark was man from America. It was hard to understand him through his thick accent. He was some marine biologist who worked to save the vermin of southern California. Whyever you would want to save any more of those pesky little furballs was beyond her. He rattled on about the differences between sea and river vermin, and how sea vermin had flippers, but river vermin were smaller and had paws instead. Why in Merlin's name would she care that sea vermin had a thousand hairs per square inch? That man was a bust.

Rita moved on to a man dressed in bright colours. He had a thick accent as well, but he spoke in more understandable English. He claimed to be from South Africa and had a wonderful business as a seafood merchandiser. He ran five restaurants along the coast and shipped out fresh seafood to places around the world. Just when she tried to ask him more interesting questions, he started to speak in some odd language she had never heard before in her life. Every question she asked was answered in some sort of gibberish.

Rita was starting to think the entire guest list was full of jabbering idiots with the most boring lives ever. She tried her luck with an important-looking man who had been talking with one of the wedding party. Now things could get interesting. She pulled a new drink off the nearby table, dipping her laced nail into it before casually handing it to him, putting on her most oozing charm.

"Привет. _Мога ли да ви помогна?_ "

Rita blinked. "I'm sure you have something more interesting to say than that?" she suggested.

" _Не те разбирам._ "

"Can you tell me anything in English?"

"Как се казвате?"

"English?"

"орабът ми на въздушна възглавница е пълен със змиорки."

Rita gave up. That was going nowhere. She shook her head and left, leaving the man staring at her.

It was around that time that she felt she was being watched. She looked around, frowning and then smiling whenever someone looked at her.

She couldn't risk going too close to the main table. The English guests would very likely recognise her, and Viktor would definitely recognise her. She couldn't afford that. She had to stay on the fringes

"Look lost," a male voice said, causing Rita to spin around.

A dark haired, dark-eyed man regarded her. He bowed his head slightly. "English party up front, near head table, if looking. Put them there so not stuck trying to understand bunch of Bulgarians."

Rita composed herself. "Ah, no, actually, I was just to get to know some people."

"Ah, well," the man chuckled. "Most Bulgarians here talk same. Scowl a lot. Talk about problems and fixing problems. Practical people."

Rita offered him a drink, which he accepted with thanks.

"Do practical people need a king?" Rita asked.

"Better with king. Shark King looked over Wizarding Bulgaria for longer than most," he said. "Long line of hope for people with many troubles."

"Who are you?" Rita asked demurely. "You sound like you know people."

He snorted. "Am Stoyan, brother of Viktor. Know enough."

Rita smiled wide. "Tell me, Stoyan. Do you approve of your brother being next in line?"

"Approve?" Stoyan asked, frowning, and for a moment Rita thought the serum was wearing off too soon. "Must be joking. He is the shark. He is next in line."

"Because he can change into a shark?" Rita asked. "Really?"

"Two kind of ruler," Stoyan said. "Ruler who love power or ruler who love people. Shark King love people more than power. Cursed because part of family want power. Cured because part of family love son more than power. Find happiness because witch want happiness for king and willing to see beyond body. Viktor knew possible be king one day but hope it me or older brother Ilarion. Meanwhile, we hope it him.

"Don't you want power?" Rita asked.

"No!" Stoyan shook his head adamantly.

"Why?"

"Am not man who share," Stoyan said. "Make horrible king. Would want to keep everything for self. Not good for people."

"You're saying you don't want power because you'd want power?"

"Yes."

"So, your brother comes home with new sister, and you are okay with that?" Rita probed.

"Sister strong and intelligent," Stoyan said. "Magic strong. Love for family very strong. Proud to have."

"But how can she just be his sister? No arguments? No protest?" Rita asked.

"Blood calls to magic. Magic sings in blood," Stoyan said. "Magic sings in blood the same, now. She is family. She is Krum. No question. Loyalty to family absolute."

Rita smiled. Now she was getting somewhere. "How did he make her family?"

Stoyan stared at her strangely. "Ritual blood and magic mix. Oldest tradition. When Shark King made first family, created ancient magic. Deep magic ensure family not betray family again. Best way to ensure no betrayal is to make one one family. Reasons change, but Old Magic remains."

"You'd force someone to become family?"

"Never force!" Stoyan's face became angry. "Is gift beyond measure. To belong. To be family. You no understand." The wizard's eyes were starting to darken, and Rita realised that he was starting to shake off the serum.

"I'm so sorry," Rita cooed. "Our cultures are so different. I do not mean to offend."

Stoyan shook his head. "Apologise. Not sure why so angry."

"It's fine," Rita placated. "Thank you for speaking with me." She slinked off before the last of the serum wore off and cleared Stoyan's head enough for him to realise he was saying things he wouldn't normally say to a complete stranger.

Blood and magic, hrm? This would make an excellent story. A little embellishment here, a little omission there, and that furry little tramp would be painted as a Dark magic-wielding harlot. Her stories would bring the real truth that Bulgaria didn't want anyone to know: they used Dark blood-magic to bind people to their families. Once the truth got out, Rita would be famous for bringing the truth to the light. That Muggle-born rodent wouldn't be flaunting her newfound status any longer.

Loud laughter distracted her.

"You are too kind, your Highness," the man boomed. "I promise only to ask what you will be willing to answer."

That man was Erikson! The little weasel had been invited to the wedding and she had not! The nerve! She was the best reporter the Prophet had, and that arse-kissing idiot was here asking that nasty little vermin questions like it was nothing.

Erikson walked to an adjoining room with the furry little pest leading the way. Rita slid behind the curtain nearby and changed into her beetle form. She flew through the door and landed in the nearby curtains. She was about to crawl closer when she saw the familiar and unwelcome greasy hair and crooked nose entering the room. Damn it all!

She was going to have to be extra careful. That greasy-haired git had a sort of sixth sense about being watched. She would have to be extra still and stay a bit farther away.

"So tell me, your Highness," Erikson started. "Have you ever imagined yourself here, in Bulgaria, crowned princess and sister to the next King of Bulgaria?"

Rita listened closely, but all she could hear was squeaking.

"Hah! I'm sure it was quite the surprise," Erikson laughed. "Tell me, did it take you long to learn the language? You seem pretty comfortable out there."

More squeaking. What the hell was Erikson up to?

"Crash course is right," Erikson agreed. "I'm not sure anyone expects to be fluent in a few months.

"Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall has been with you since you were eleven, yes?" Erikson went on. "Did it ever strike you as strange reporting to two masters?"

The otter squeaked, rubbed her face with her paws, and squeaked some more.

"Ah, I did not realise you were apprenticed so quickly," Erikson commented. "Apprentice-taking hasn't been the norm for Hogwarts in many years as I understand. Do you think you would have chosen to have two masters had you not had the circumstances forced upon you?"

The otter nudged Snape's hand and he placed it over her back in a soothing motion. She squeaked a reply.

"We do not tend to think much about how our familiars feel about their work with us," Erikson said. "I have a lovely owl named Regina, and she's the most wonderful bird I've ever known, but I cannot have a conversation with her. Do you find that being able to communicate helps your relationship as a familiar as well as an apprentice?"

Happy squeaking ensued.

Erikson laughed. "I'm sure many of us have communication muck-ups from time to time, but it must be a relief that you at least don't have them with each other, yes?"

The furball squeaked, nodding.

"Tell me, your Highness—"

The little fuzzball chirped.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Erikson chuckled. "How do you feel about your new family?"

There was silence for a while, then she chirped something softly, gesturing with her paws.

"Amazing," Erikson said with a smile. "If someone told me one morning that by the end of the day I'd be adopted into a different family, I'd have said they were nuts!"

Hermione shrugged and squeaked.

"Tell me, Hermione, why do you hold on to the name Granger, and please, do not feel like you have to answer."

Idiot. She should answer anyway. What kind of imbecile asks a question and then tells them they don't have to answer? Rita rubbed her antennae.

Hermione looked up at the beak-nosed wonder and chirped sadly.

"Ahh," Erikson replied with a nod. "I understand. You do them a great honour remembering them so fondly."

Hermione squeaked pleasantly, placing her dirty little paws against the greasy git's hand. They deserved each other.

"Thank you, Your H—Hermione," Erikson said. "I appreciate you letting me interview you. There have been many nightmare stories about being press in Bulgaria, but you couldn't have made this any easier on me."

The little furrball squeaked pleasantly.

"Professor Snape," Erikson said, nodding to him.

The dark-haired wizard nodded. "Mr Erikson."

Erikson shuffled off, leaving the freak animal and the git alone. The two guards that had been watching the goings on, turned back the other direction now that Erikson was no longer there, politely averting their gaze from the squeaky wonder and her chaperone.

"You're exhausted," Snape said to the furball.

She yawned and sighed at him. She placed her paws on his chest and looked up at him.

"Of all the places, you want to take a nap on a sitting room couch?"

More squeaking.

"You really have been spending too much time with Minerva," he replied. "You're practically a cat."

She meowed at him.

The wizard raised an eyebrow at her.

A voice cleared their throat. "Apologies for interrupting, Highness, but the King and Queen wish to take a family photo."

The overgrown rodent jumped off the sitting room couch and bounce-slid towards the door. Snape followed behind with a sweep of his black fur-lined robes.

Rita pondered. If the royal family was going to be off getting their photos taken, that would let her sneak up closer to the action and get some more dirt. Perfect.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Rita should have left hours ago, but the siren-call of seductive secrets called to her like nothing else could. She had enough to bury one Hermione Granger's reputation so that she and her professorial guardians would have their names so sullied with Dark magic that they would never be able to teach again. She had enough information on that dirty Weasley family to insure that no Weasley or Prewitt would be able to be seen in public ever again. She would get to watch them squirm and writhe at the end of her hook, and that pleased her. Better yet, she would probably single-handedly tarnish the relationship between the British and Bulgarian Ministries, and that would cause enough drama to have her writing stories for the rest of her life—wonderfully, deliciously plump stories that would have Rita Skeeter's name synonymous with the ugly truth of what was going on under everyone's noses.

She smiled to herself. She could practically taste the sweetness of victory.

She had one more mark to hit: the punch bowl of the "servant" table. Oh, she knew what they were. They called them something unpronounceable in that annoying language they spoke, but they were like house-elves at the beck and call of the royal family. She knew that was where the really good dirt would be. Servants saw and heard everything, and like house elves, they were treated like they weren't there. Sure they went about their little jobs looking all pleased with themselves, but Rita was sure they were all disgruntled underlings. No people in power could ever be as kind these people wanted everyone to believe. There was no way.

She hunkered down on the rim of one of the servant collars, using their hair to hide her body from sight but allowing her to see perfectly.

She heard giggling, and a young child dressed in black with bright floral embroidery came by carrying none other than that overgrown rodent! The child giggled as she tried to carry the furrball with her, and animal was tolerating the action with a series of low squeaks.

"Gabriela!" a man admonished, rushing over. "Съжалявам, your Highness. She is but child. Does not know."

Gabriela dropped the rodent with a thud, causing her to squeak. She shook her head and stood on her rear legs. The child hugged her again, causing the animal's eyes to bug out a bit. Rita wished she had a camera.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"It's fine, Vladimir," Hermione squeaked. "She's adorable. I'd been trying to get her name, but she just hugs me tighter."

The Bulgarian smiled, bowing his head. "Gabriela loves animals. She's too young to tell the difference between pets and familiars… or royal family."

Hermione squeaked laughter. "Do not worry. A year ago, I wouldn't have known royal family either."

Vladimir smiled. "Are you happy? Do you need anything?"

Hermione shook her head. "I am fine, Vladimir. Everyone has been attending me so much, my master has almost been able to take a nap."

"Professor Snape is a formidable man," he said with admiration. "Your mistress too. Both are powerful people to be respected."

Hermione tilted her head, scratching her ear with one paw. "I really don't see them that way. I see them here." She placed her paw over her heart.

"That is a good way to see people, Highness," Vladimir said. "You are truly sister of Viktor. I am glad he found you. We are glad to have you for Bulgaria."

Hermione shook her head. "Your people have been nothing but gracious to me, Vladimir. I am grateful for your tolerance of my learning."

"Highness," Vladimir said gently. "It is our pleasure. The Royal family has taken care of our people for generations. Any addition to such a benevolent family is a time worth celebrating. My family has served yours for generations. We do this gladly. We do it willingly. Can other places in the world promise the same for their people?"

Hermione chirped sadly. "I fear not. What you have here is well worth protecting."

"What we have, Highness," Vladimir replied. "You are now one of us. You protect us. We will protect you. Is our bond. Our oath."

Hermione smiled, showing her pearly, pointed teeth. "You make a convincing argument, my friend."

He smiled. "It is an honour to serve, Highness."

"You have no idea how wonderful it is to be understood without having to use a slate," Hermione squeaked.

"Bulgaria founded in 681 A.D. as the Muggles see it. Magic Bulgaria and line of the Shark King much older than that. We have many years of practice," Vladimir replied with a nod. "My son, Andrian, attends Durmstrang with sister, Rada. Both make their parents very proud. Andrian is strong in protective magic. He will be a proud defender. Rada is brilliant in alchemy. She will probably join the Royal Alchemists. Both will serve your family faithfully."

Hermione gestured for him to come closer. She put her paws on his hands. "They sound like wonderful people. I look forward to meeting them."

Vladimir looked up at a child's giggle. "Gabriela! Stop chasing that poor bug."

The child stopped, pouting. She came back with a frown. "But, Papa, it was pretty!"

"Many pretty things here, little one," he said, lifting her up into his arms. "Come, let's find your mother." Vladimir bowed to Hermione and wandered off into the crowd.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I think sister is on last leg," Viktor said as he set his hand over the exhausted Ottermione at the table.

Hermione squeaked weakly, her paw twitching.

"Too many presents to guess," the king chuckled, smiling at his wife. He looked at Viktor with a wink. "She guessed better than you, my son."

"She cheated!" Viktor protested. "She has better nose out of water."

The king laughed. "Skillful use of assets, my son."

The queen leaned in. "To be fair, none of you told her the tradition that everyone bets on what was inside the gifts."

Viktor blinked. "They do not do that in England?"

Nikolina laughed. "Even if they do, I do not think she planned to sniff over thousands of packages."

Viktor looked at Hermione with sympathy, patting her fur with his hand. "I owe her a crate of herring roe next spawning season. I adopted her, made her learn our language, had her take many more tests, dress up in strange clothes, and put crown on her head."

"She makes it look adorable," the queen said, drinking from her glass. "It is a good thing you did not have sisters until her. They would be terribly jealous."

Viktor grinned.

Suddenly, Vladimir rushed up to the table, bowing low as he shuffled up. "Beg your pardon Majesties," he appealed. "Please, have you seen my Gabriela? Her mother set her down to nap, but when I went to check on her, she was gone. I've checked everywhere she normally goes."

The queen looked up, worried. "Gabriela? That sweet child who brings me such beautiful insects every day?"

Vladimir nodded, his eyes pleading. "I'm sorry, your Majesties. Today of all days."

The king rose his hand up, stopping the apology. "No, Vladimir. There is nothing more important than finding a lost child. Hopefully, she is hiding somewhere new, hoping you find her. We will search at once."

"If I may, your Majesty," Severus interrupted. "I may be able to offer a solution much faster than a search party."

Multiple sets of curious eyes stared at him.

Severus looked apologetic as he pressed his hand to Hermione's head. "Menace, attend."

Hermione was up in an instant, eyes wide and whiskers twitching.

Severus lifted her up. pressing his forehead to hers.

Hermione squeaked as he let her go, and she took to the air, darting out of the hall in a blur of fur and feathers.

Polite curious looks and stares assaulted Severus.

Minerva help up her hand in explanation. "She's been trained like a postal owl. She can find anyone."

"That sounds useful," Stoyan said, taking a sip of his drink.

Minerva nodded.

"Could have used her to find Viktor as child," Ilarion said, clapping his brother on the back.

Viktor glowered and then laughed.

"He used to hide in odd places," the queen said with a knowing look. "In the fish pond, lurking with the water lilies. Should have known he would be next in line to throne."

Viktor flushed.

"Don't forget the potato bin in the kitchens, mother," Stoyan ribbed.

Viktor mumbled things, staring at his borscht.

"There was that time he slept in the cupboard in the servants' quarters," the King muttered, watching his son fidget.

Nikolina chuckled, earning her a glare from Viktor. She flushed, waving her hands. "My mother used to find me sleeping with the house Kneazles in a basket under the stairs."

Viktor's expression grew into a grin.

"Ah, Lady Nikolina, did you ever find yourself sleeping under a bench in the garden?"

"I might have been found sleeping in one of the trees in the family orchard," Nikolina confessed.

"These two made for each other," Stoyan laughed heartily. "Good thing they are married."

The table erupted in laughter.

The Queen sighed. "My grandbabies will be sleeping with the hounds and with the hippogriffs in the stables," she lamented.

Viktor smiled at her. "At least they will be warm, mother."

His mother shook her head. " _Da_ ," she replied, ending the conversation.

Suddenly Severus went very pale as his knuckles whitened. "Quickly," he hissed. "Where is there a grey tree with blue leaves?"

Ilarion frowned. "There is only one, on the great cliffs outside the palace. My grandfather planted it as a seedling as a gift to my grandmother."

"Is there a path there?" Severus asked, his eyes very, very dark.

"No," the King replied. "The path has fallen into the sea with the last earthquake. We had the new marble stairs, so we never rebuilt them."

"The child is there," Severus explained. "Hermione is with her. Gabriela has her foot caught between some rocks.

"We cannot apparate there," the King said. "The anti-Apparition jinxes that protect the palace extend a few meters out from the cliffs. They are linked to the unplottable wards that protect us from Muggle detection."

"We must go quickly," Stoyan said, standing. Viktor and Ilarion were already on their feet and running.

"This way," the King said, standing up and ushering Severus and Minerva in front.

They took off at a run, the guards automatically parting for them while keeping the guests at the wedding from getting in the way. By the time the guests suspected something was up, they had already left the palace on their way to find the grey tree with blue leaves.

The cliffside had eroded both by time and weather, and all that remained of what was once a wide path was a small sliver of footpath that was not wide enough for an adult. The huge grey tree rustled below, long willow-like branches covered in sapphire blue leaves rattled in wind coming up from the ocean far below.

Seabirds flew in and out of small crevices in the cliffside, flying back and forth from the sea to feed their ravenous chicks. Every so often the wind would kick up, sending a cloud of birds diving so abruptly that they looked as though they were going to smash themselves upon the cliffside. The old limbs of the tree creaked and swayed.

Severus growled as he was stopped by the tiny pathway. There was no way he was going to fit on the path, and there was no one nearby that could either. Shifting into this Animagus form wasn't going to help either, as it was larger than he was as a human.

Minerva seemingly read his mind. "I'll go," she said swiftly, shifting and bounding down the small cliff trail that lead perilously down, down, down to even more hazardous cliffsides.

"Be cautious," Severus said as she bounded away, his brows furrowed into a sharp crease.

Viktor and his brothers stared down the cliffside. "This area is called the Jaws of the Leviathan," he said. "The rocks below are long and sharp. Many lives have ended here. Muggle and Magical both. It was why the palace was built here. This border was always protected by the cliffs."

"There has always been the sacred tree upon the cliffs to remind us of the beauty and the danger of the sea. When the tree grows old, it grows one fruit for seven years. The seed is planted in the body of the old tree, and it springs anew." Ilarion stared down the cliff face with concern.

"Grandfather planted the seed for my Grandmother, and before then it had grown for many generations," Stoyan continued.

They all watched as Minerva worked her way down. Minerva plastered herself to the cliff side, clinging to the rock face. She assumed her human form and waved her wand, casting ropes to the tree branches to stabilise them. She pulled them, struggling not to be pulled forward. She anchored them to the side of the cliff with an incantation.

"Hermione!" Minerva called. "Can you fly her to me?"

The flying otter was clinging to the girls dress, squeaking shrilly in distress. Her wings beat frantically. Perhaps, had she been well rested, she may have been able to do it, but Hermione was clearly suffering. Her wings were strained, her paws were scraping trying to gain purchase, and to add to the chaos, the terrified child was squirming like crazy. Hermione's eyes locked with Minerva's and something unspoken passed between them.

Minerva quickly ripped another strip of cloth from her robes and turned it into another rope. She threw it towards Hermione. "Fasten this to the tether ropes, Hermione! I will pull her to me. Remember your splicing lessons?"

Hermione was panting, but she squeaked and nodded to Minerva. Minerva watched as the otter pulled the rope up, wings working against the gusting wind as she weaved it around the crying child. Hermione cooed, squeaked, and comforted, but focused on the ropes. She looped the rope around a few times and then spliced the rope together by weaving the tatters back into the cord of the rope. She flung the rope over the anchoring rope Minerva had connected, then spliced the rope together with her teeth to make it strong.

Hermione clung to the girl's dress, heaving. The wind gusts made it almost impossible to fly. Something in the thrum of the magic of this area was making it impossible to Apparate, and it was even messing with her special brand of house elf Apparation, making it too risky to even attempt a side-along. She wasn't going to endanger the little girl's life any more than it already was. Why she was out here on the cliffs in the first place, however, remained a mystery.

She looked upward, eyes tearing from the wind, and the cold seemed to seep insidiously into her thick fur. She could only imagine what it was like for the girl, whose thin, ornate dress was made for well-warmed halls and hearth-side celebrations. The bitter, moist cold stung her nose cruelly.

"Hold on," Hermione squeaked to the girl. "Just a little more."

"Daddy!" she cried. "Momma!"

Hermione's heart clenched, and the exhaustion was draining her, but she couldn't give up. "Hold on to this rope. Hold tight. I'm going to free your feet. Hold tight, okay?"

The child whimpered but nodded.

Hermione jumped down to the girl's feet and threw her weight against the stone, pushing, pulling, and wedging herself like a lever to move them. She managed to move them, but the girl didn't have enough sense to pull free.

"Pull your feet out!" Hermione chirped.

The girl was crying loudly now in fear. She could no longer hear Hermione over the seething roar of the wind.

Hermione gathered her thoughts. What she wouldn't give for one of those jackhammers she used to see busting up concrete near her father's old prac—wait a minute.

Hermione pulled the amber focus out from her otter-pocket, hugging it in her happiness that it was still there and not a dream. She concentrated, sending the last of her energy into it to activate its magic. With a squeak of determination, she smashed it down on the rock encasing the girl's ankles. The rock exploded outward, the shards plummeting down to the sea below.

Hermione pressed the focus to her muzzle and felt Severus' warm and familiar energy laced in it. She looked upward, but could not make out shapes in the biting wind. She looked over to Minerva and took a deep breath. She stuffed her prized focus back into her otter-pocket. She climbed back up the girl's body.

"Gabriela, I need you to hold onto that rope!" Hermione begged.

Gabriela had her hands smashed together, and she shook her head. Tears were flowing down her face. "Can't. Can't. Can't let go!"

Hermione knew she was going ot have to lighten the load by flight-lifting the girl as Minerva pulled. Whatever the girl was holding onto, she refused to let go. For all Hermione knew, it was a prized family heirloom , and she really didn't want to get into a discussion here on the cliffs trying to find out.

Later. When everyone was safe. Not now.

Hermione knew she was at the end of her energetic rope. She'd already wasted her energy casting a few variants of levitation on the child, and the resulting panic of Gabriela had made her spend even more precious energy dispelling it before the child panicked herself down to the rocks below.

She was too young to argue with, and the last thing Hermione wanted to do was traumatise her so much that she'd be violently against magic at an early age.

Hermione heaved and spread her wings. She concentrated on the heaviest thing she had ever had to carry: a full crate of jokes, gags, and fireworks courtesy of Fred and George and the barrel of Ogden's Firewhisky that Sirius had drunkenly requested her to take home for him. Oh, how Severus had chewed Sirius out. She really wanted a hug right now.

Come on, Hermione, you can do it. It's a child. More precious than a barrel of firewhisky. Heave! Heave!

 _Normally you can Apparate once it's in the air._

Shut it. Focus. The child is important.

Her wings were burning. Her muscles were screaming. Just a little more, Hermione. Minerva is right there. Just a few more feet and you're home free. What good are you if you can't save one little child? One, two, one, two.

Flap. Flap. Flap.

Master.

 _Hermione?_

Will you still love me if there is this one thing I cannot do?

 _Hermione!_

Severus. Do it for Severus. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for him.

Hermione whimpered, her wings were on fire. The pain was spreading down her entire body. Her paws were losing all feeling.

 _Hold on to her, Hermione. Just a little more. Look at Minerva._ _Beautiful Minerva._

 _Goddess of Wisdom. Bless me with your strength, my Goddess. Grant me the energy for just a bit little longer. I beg you, my Goddess. Bless me with Your light and strength today. Let me save this child that she may know Your wisdom. Let her know love as I have known love. May her fingers feel the threads of the weave of life. May she know magic as those before her have known magic. Great and Merciful Minerva. My Mother. My Goddess. Take me into Your arms that I may bring this child to Your embrace._

Hermione gave a great heave of her battered wings, gaining a second wind. She locked eyes with Minerva and felt a great peace fall over her heart.

 _Beloved Minerva. Great Mother. Wrap me in your wings._

Burning pain spread down her body, but she ignored it.

 _I give myself to You, Great Goddess. My life and this child's life are in Your hands. I give myself freely to Your mercy and love._

 _My heart is open. I look to the sky, and I see the moon._

 _I give my soul into Your keeping, for in Your eyes, I see the sun._

Suddenly, Gabriela gave a scream of protest and she clutched her hands as if stung. A blast of some sort of energy came out like a nova from her hands. A small blur or iridescence went buzzings out from her once closed hands.

The rope snapped as if melted, transforming back into the tatter of robe that Minerva has used to make it.

"Hermione!" Minerva's voice screamed as she reached out to grab for them.

Hermione's wings beat strongly in the wind, her eyes locked on Minerva as though she would be able to maintain it forever. She hovered, suspended as if by cords of silk.

"I love you, Minerva."

Hermione clutched the child to her furry body and plummeted down to the thick mist, rocks, and merciless sea below.

 _ **-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

"Hermione! No!" Severus saw the shape of Hermione drop as the ropes Minerva had conjured both snapped and turned back into scraps of cloth. Minerva lunged and tried to catch them.

The elder witch waved her wand frantically shouting, "Arresto Momentum!"

The plummeting speck that was Hermione and Gabriela, however, had already disappeared into the mists over the churning sea.

" _Sestra_!" Viktor, Stoyan, and Ilarion yelled at once. They were off, running along the cliffs towards the great marble staircase.

The Queen was aloft in a second, the body of a great albatross taking to the skies. She tried to dive over the cliff, but was wildly buffeted back again and again, and she was forced to fly back towards the great staircase as well. The king was running while barking orders.

"Take to the skies. Fly out to where the winds allow! Find my daughter! Find Gabriela!"

People on brooms were taking to the air. Many tried to go down the cliffs where she had disappeared, but, just as the queen had been, they were viciously repelled by the violent drafts that threatened to smash them against the cliff face. They yelled back and forth at each other, zooming off in many directions. Severus was running. Minerva ran up the path in cat form, choosing her feline form to increase her speed and footing.

Minerva and Severus ran together, skidding as they hit the marble staircase, then making their way down it.

They were not as fast as the Krums however. Viktor and his father jumped into the ocean at the same time, their shark forms swiftly consuming them. They dove into the sea heading out in different directions. Nikolina hit the water too in her hourglass dolphin form, skimming the water like a black and white torpedo. The great albatross screamed a cry across the sea waves, sounding like the mournful drone of grief mixed with the pleading cry of a mother.

Countless guests were taking off over the waves on their brooms.

But, it was as if the weather was taking its own pound of flesh and fighting them every step of the way. The mists were spreading out across the ocean, spreading rapidly across the beach and obscuring the sight of anything more than a few metres out. The searchers on brooms had to quickly rein back in due to the ever-increasing danger.

A lone albatross sent out a sharp cry, and there was a sudden commotion in the water. Severus and Minerva searched the mists as the sound of a large tail slapping the waves rang out. There was another answering slap from a different location followed by excited cetacean chittering.

The mists swirled as two sharks landed on the dais. Viktor landed in his human form, but his father had a body nestled in his gaping maw. Viktor pulled the dripping body out from his father's open mouth and carried it towards Severus and Minerva. Stoyan and Ilarion rushed out to meet their brother.

Viktor lay the body on the dais, his sides heaving slightly from his efforts. The queen and the king approached from behind, staring down at the water-logged body that was hardly recognisable in any way. Severus leaned over and pulled the seaweed, cloth, and hair away from the body's face. Blood streaked in the water that ran in rivulets down her face.

"Who is this, brother?" Ilarion asked.

Viktor scowled darkly. "Woman from Tri-Wizard tournament. Woman with annoying quill. Asked me many questions."

"Rita Skeeter," Severus said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

"Who is that, Professor?" Stoyan asked.

Minerva was back in human form. Her eyes were burning with hatred. "The worst kind of woman. British tabloid writer and scandalmonger."

"I do not remember inviting or approving this… Skeeter to attend our son's wedding," the king said in a low growl.

"I approved the press list, father," Ilarion said. "She was not on it."

"Then what was she doing out there, floating in the sea?" the queen asked, wringing her hands. "Where is my daughter?"

Severus looked out into the thickening mist.

Minerva placed her hand on his. "Severus, she—"

Severus grit his teeth. "I would feel it if…" He clenched his fist.

"We go!" the three brothers announced, scrambling to their feet.

"Bind her wounds," Viktor said darkly. "Then throw her to the interrogators."

The three headed off down the dais, but then stopped.

The mists were parting. A slender figure was walking out of the calming waters with entirely bare feet. Hazy white robes flickered in the wind. In one hand was a spear. On one shoulder there was an owl that seemed to be both ivory and gold spun together in perfect harmony. Mists formed the span of great wings that seemed to trail behind her. A cord-like belt was the sole adornment around her waist, but the cord seemed to be crafted of glittering stars. In her other arm, cradled against her body in peaceful sleep, was a child: Gabriela. The moment her feet touched the marble dais, a wake rolled out from her feet like a squall from a sudden storm. The air was filled with the scent of petrichor—the very embodiment of the refreshing scent after rain.

She glided across the dais as though her feet barely needed to touch. The soft sound of her footfalls made a din like tiny silver bells. She walked up the great marble staircase to where Vladimir was standing with Severus, Minerva, the royal family, and their closest guard. The gold colour of her eyes glowed down upon them, and it swallowed up the entirety of her eyes.

She passed the sleeping child to Vladimir, whose jaw was practically touching the ground.

"She sleeps," she said, her voice layered as though many whispers were echoed behind every word. "The blessed sleep of oblivion, where dreams touch into the Elysium. She will remember nothing of her fall."

Her eyes bored into Vladimir. Her face was serene, but emotionless.

"T—thank you," Vladimir stammered.

She turned to face all of them. Her eyes narrowed, golden flames consuming her eyes. Phantom wings flapped, and the wind rose around them. In one hand she held a spear. In the other, she bore a shield.

"Do not thank me," she said, her voice sounding like the whispers of countless people saying their prayers. "Thank her." She narrowed her eyes, the slow blink seemed to span the entirety of Creation. "Her purity of prayer rose above all others to save an innocent child, heedless of her own life. In that span of one heart beating, I did taste purity of purpose and spirit. I did make her Mine."

The woman who seemed like so much more turned her head slightly, and the world seemed to take in its breath and release it slowly. She looked at Minerva, and a small smile tugged on the corner of her lips. "You have raised Our daughter well. She is selfless and brazen, and one day, she will be wise beyond measure. But, for now, she still has much to learn from you."

She turned to Severus, her golden eyes were filled with living fire. "Not all of your friends are imbeciles, Severus. Some of them are blessed with insight, if you were only to listen." Her eyes flared, and she blinked ever so slowly. "There will come a time when all those excuses will become meaningless. When the time comes, you will have a choice. Choose to give her the love she and you both deserve."

She stepped back from them, staring into them all at once in a way that made them all suddenly catch their breath. The owl on her shoulder hooted, and it rang in their ears like a clarion bell.

"Protect my daughter as I protect you."

The golden glow spread from her eyes and consumed her entire body. It became so bright all of them had to shield their eyes with their arms. As the brightness faded, they all lowered their arms to see a lovely brunette teenager with wild curls writhing in the wind. Her whisky-brown eyes flickered with emotion. Her body was clad in nothing but the sky, a solitary crown above her head, and a cluster of necklaces around her slender neck.

Her eyelids blinked agonisingly slowly just before she pitched forward as her knees gave out, and she crumpled to the ground.

" _Sestra!"_

"Daughter!"

"Hermione!"

As the waves of curious gawkers came rushing forward, Severus covered her with his robes and swept up the marble staircase, carrying her to her chambers and away from prying, curious eyes and all the questions he could not or would not answer.

Hermione's three older brothers flanked him as he walked, parting the people as Neptune might divide the sea.

The king looked down at the half-drowned and injured body of Rita Skeeter with a very predatory expression. He saw a lump under the fabric and narrowed his eyes. He kneeled down, patted around, and pulled out a small green vial. He opened it, sniffing it and staring into the inside of the vial itself. He put the stopper back in with his teeth clenched in anger.

"Gavrail. Dimitar."

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"Strip this woman of her wand, then take her to the infirmary. Have her patched up," he ordered. "Then put her in a very dark cell with anti-magic wards and one guard who stays with her at all times. She is not to piss herself without supervision. Am I understood?"

"Yes, your Highness," the pair said together.

"Bogomil."

"Yes, Highness?"

"Get me the British Ambassador. Wake him up if you must. Bring him here in his bedclothes if need be."

"Yes, Highness," the man said, bowing and leaving swiftly.

The king and queen watched them drag Rita Skeeter away.

"Time to remind Britain why Bulgaria calls me the Shark King."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 **A/N:** Rita calls Hermione a rodent because she's pants at species differentiation. She wouldn't know a Mustelidae from a Muridae if it bit her on the face.


	5. 5 Between an Otter and a Hard Place

**A/N:** Shorter update compared to yesterday's, but longer than most people write in a day! :D On a side note: I do not like this being unable to reply to reviews. I hope ff dot net fixes this annoying "little" bug soon.

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, fluffpanda

* * *

 **Glad it Wasn't Me**

 **Chapter 5: Between an Otter and and a Hard Place**

Hermione didn't wake up for the next day, or the next after that. She slept as though she were making up for so much lost time and paying for it all in triplicate. Fortunately, the wedding reception had not been a complete loss. The enormous guest list had actually been a boon when it came to providing witnesses to the evidence being gathered against one Rita Skeeter. Once it became obvious that she had inserted herself into several suspicious conversations with influential people, many concerned parties were demanding to know exactly what they had been dosed with without their consent.

The king had the vial he had confiscated from Rita swiftly analysed both by his Royal Alchemists and Hermione's most trusted counsel: Severus Snape. Both confirmed that what was in the vial was pure Veritaserum. This fact alone had the Shark King raging down upon the British Ambassador, demanding to know why some unregulated media person had managed to get her hands on Veritaserum when its use was supposedly highly regulated. Then, there was the fact that she had managed to acquire flawless credentials to get into the wedding reception uninvited and had somehow accessed the castle grounds unseen. None of the outer palace guards had seen her check in, and all of them were beyond reproach. The reception itself had people checking invitations, but it was only to seat people, not to identify them. Somehow, Rita Skeeter, the face the majority of England would have known instantly on sight, had managed to sneak herself in without being noticed, and that included not being spotted by one Ferdinand Erikson, who had worked with her for some time at the Daily Prophet.

Erikson, who was more than happy to talk with officials, related that he hadn't heard from Rita in weeks. He had spent the last few learning the proper conduct for press representatives in Bulgaria, and the last he had heard from her, she had been hot on the trail of something very big. Rita, however, had never been one to share until the story hit the tabloids. She had always enjoyed the sheer thrill of shock value. Last he had heard, she wasn't planning on censoring her quest for the truth for anyone up to and including royalty, so she refused to attend the meetings that he had to prepare for Bulgaria's rather strict regulations for the press corps.

Even more curious was the discovery that the trace on the vial of Veritaserum had led back to a set of vials that had been authorised for use by one Dolores Jane Umbridge. As Madam Umbridge had been enjoying the hospitality of Azkaban for quite some time by this point, the question remained: exactly _how_ did Rita Skeeter get her hands on that particular stash of Veritaserum? Even if she had bought it from someone, somewhere, who would have had the means necessary to access the high-security areas of the British Ministry of Magic?

Mysteries such as those were best left to the Royal Interrogators, wizards and witches who had hundreds of years of practice getting the information they required out of people in the most efficient and effective way possible.

The British Ministry of Magic was in total uproar. The _Prophet_ , which should have been full of debate and outrageously speculative stories, was strangely silent on the subject of their favorite scandalmonger's latest activities. Instead, the _Quibbler_ was running the most popular series of debates it had ever run in the history of their publication. Sales were skyrocketing and the _Quibbler's_ list of subscribers was growing so quickly that they had to expand their printings and hire a score of new employees. In the meantime, the _Daily Prophet_ was running oddly benign articles that skirted around the drama in Bulgaria, and that attracted the attention of the DMLE. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was just itching for something, anything to pounce on, and when they discovered that Rita Skeeter had somehow acquired vials of Veritaserum belonging to the much-reviled Madam Umbridge, they wasted no time tearing the _Daily_ _Prophet_ editorial offices apart.

While going through said offices with a fine-toothed comb, a rather disturbing paper trail revealed that Rita Skeeter had been spying on people with the full blessing of the owners and management of _The Daily Prophet_ for a very long time. Even more damning, they knew something they had kept secret from the Ministry: Rita Skeeter was an illegal Animagus. Her form was a beetle—a beetle that would have been small enough to hitchhike unnoticed into the Bulgarian Royal Wedding to sow utter chaos and nearly cause the tragic deaths of both a child and a member of the Bulgarian royal family.

They had information hoarded on everyone at the Ministry from the lowliest office clerk to those in the highest echelons of the Minister for Magic's cabinet. They were bribing Aurors to look the other way by threatening to expose embarrassing or incriminating information about the Aurors themselves or their family members. Thousands of expertly doctored photographs were found and immediately confiscated. Rioters were threatening to burn down the headquarters of the _Daily Prophet_. Foreign government officials and other offended parties were demanding justice now that they knew or highly suspected how their most confidential or highly-classified information had been mysteriously acquired. They found thousands of poorly-fed and abused owls hoarded in the lower levels of the building, hidden from view from the public viewing specimens kept in the areas where people visited.

THTOF, the Trust for the Humane Treatment of Owls and Familiars, came down upon the _Daily Prophet's_ owners and management, showering them with thousands of citations for abusing the birds in their dubious care. Some of the owls were immediately taken away to be cared for and nursed back to health in order to eventually find them new homes. Other were retired, and some were even traced back to their original owners, who had been told that their owls had died. Even after a great many had been helped, countless more remained, and Rubeus Hagrid volunteered to assist in the recovery and rehabilitation of the _Prophet_ owls. Hundreds of owls were scattered about Hagrid's humble cottage on the Hogwarts' grounds, but it turned out to be therapeutic for the slowly-recovering birds.

Thankfully, it was still during the summer break, and Hagrid planned to have everything organised for when the students returned. The Hogwarts' owls pitched in by socialising and assisting in their own way, and Hagrid approached the Board of Governors about starting a specialized Owl Care Class that would teach specialised care, handling, and feeding of the birds to avoid the abuse experienced by the unfortunate _Prophet_ owls. There was even talk of a having low-cost owl adoptions for children who successfully finished the course and developed a bond with a particular owl. The Board suggested that there be a higher-level class for the rehabilitation of injured and abused animals that could be offered as an alternative course to the standard Care of Magical Creatures program, and the next term would the very first trial run.

Hagrid was looking to be very busy for the next year, and much to the relief of the local centaur population, it increased the likelihood they would not be assaulted by Hagrid's latest breeding experiment gone very, very wrong. There was that matter of an "unexplained population explosion of three-headed dog puppies running about in the Dark Forest" the previous year and the inexplicable finding of an enormous nest of tropical Acromantulas that were by no means native to Scotland. Thankfully, the weather was not doing the giant spiders any great favours and the last hard winter had made millions of tropical spider-sicles. The rest had been evicted with a large team of exotic species specialists, leaving Hagrid sobbing inconsolably in his hut well into the next week.

Albus had a very serious "discussion" with Hagrid when, shortly after that, Pomona Sprout had been ambushed by a "small" group of blast-ended skrewts in her greenhouse classroom. It was everyone's hope that Hagrid would find a lasting peace surrounded in owls and teaching students how to care for them because no one wanted their children to grow up to breed blast-ended skrewts or other dangerous and improbable magical critters and choosing to regularly get in trouble with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which would truly be a most unwise and potentially costly career choice.

While the situation with the owls was, if not solved, at least managed, the drama with the _Daily Prophet_ reached an explosive climax… literally. Someone cast Fiendfyre on the on the first floor before the Aurors could arrive, and hundreds of partially burned and previously well-hidden boxes of evidence were revealed to their very interested eyes. By the time the Wizengamot was finished with the owners of the _Prophet,_ the business and its assets were auctioned off to pay for damages against all the victims and their families. Both Hermione, who was still blissfully asleep through the entire fiasco, and Gabriela were sent a large chunk of said "restitution" for Rita's crimes that would have led to murder had a divine miracle not quite literally saved them both from a very tragic death.

The _Quibbler_ , on the other hand, was finding its clout growing as quickly as their subscriptions were increasing, and many of the lesser-known more scrupulous writers who had been working for the Prophet now gratefully came to work for Xenophilius Lovegood. They had more than enough funds to adopt quite a few of the abused owls, have an actual office building constructed, and hire the first staff members that weren't Xenophilius and his daughter, Luna. The Lovegood family owl, who was arguably the fittest owl in Britain, if not Europe, after making all the deliveries by himself, was soon joined by a small parliament of new friends. To celebrate the paper's stunning change in fortune, every _Quibbler_ subscriber was delivered a small package of homemade cookies and a butterbeer cork necklace that was said to keep away Nargles.

* * *

 _Where is the only British-born Bulgarian Princess?_

 _Unless you've been living under a rock recently, or perhaps incarcerated for something involving being an unregistered Animagus, you've probably heard about_ _Her Most Graceful Highness, Royal Majesty, Princess Hermione Granger Krum the First. England's first Bulgarian Royal Family adoptee has been been an otter for the past five years thanks to a freak accident in a Potions class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but according to the latest news, a dramatic transformation has occurred!_

 _We've heard many stories, my friends, and unfortunately, thanks to some rather strict rules regarding the media that have only gotten tighter thanks to the machinations of Rita Skeeter, we cannot simply ask! All questions regarding the Bulgarian Royal Family must have prior approval of the King Himself, and that list is strictly monitored during the actual interview! How is that for strict? Can you imagine what it would be like in Britain if all questions regarding the Ministry had to be personally pre-approved by the Minister?_

 _The former Hermione Granger has been living in Bulgaria during the summer break leading up to her brother, Viktor Krum's, wedding. She has not been alone, however. According to an interview that was published in the Daily Prophet before its untimely demise, her dual masters, Hogwarts Professors Snape and McGonagall, were not only asked to attend with her, but they were given the seals of official Bulgarian Royal Advisors! This is the highest honour a non-Bulgarian can obtain from the Royal family._

 _But, wait! Before you think that this is unfair, wait until you hear what they had to do before all of this happened! For those of you thinking taking your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were the end of testing, you haven't tried to seek a position with the Bulgarians! Former Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, and Minerva McGonagall sat for three days taking a battery of tests that make our N.E.W.T.s look like a Witch Weekly relationship quiz! They don't believe in taking tests up to a certain level. They believe in taking tests until you run out of tests to take!_

 _Her Most Graceful Highness, Royal Majesty, Princess Hermione Granger Krum the First sat her exams beside her masters, taking every test the Bulgarians could throw at them. Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Flying, Defence, Herbology, and list of things we've never even heard of were on that list. What does that mean for them? We have no idea. However, sources say they will never want for a job anywhere in Bulgaria— not that they are looking!_

 _Rumours say that if you sit exams for Bulgaria, places won't even ask for your N.E.W.T. scores. If you survive them, that's good enough! Is it true? No one is sure. Everyone we have interviewed regarding the Bulgarian test battery never finished. They are that bad, folks._

 _All of this boils down to one main question. What has happened to former Hermione Granger, Britain's most illustrious otter?_

 _Upon interviewing a few British guests who were privileged to attend Prince Viktor's wedding, we could only get a few answers, which simply led to even more questions._

" _They say that Princess Hermione was cured by the Bulgarians. Is this true?"_

" _Cured? I am not sure about cured," said Eustace Finway. There was a child who fell from a cliff, and during the rescue, the princess fell into the sea with the child. The entire family dove into the water to look for her. Hundreds of guests searched, but the mist was too thick."_

" _How does this relate to the princess?"_

" _No one found her. She walked out of the ocean carrying the child some time after they pulled the unconscious body of Rita Skeeter from the ocean, thinking it was her."_

" _So, Rita was out there searching and fell into the ocean?"_

" _No, I don't think so," Eustace said to our reporter._

" _So, why all the chatter that there was a miracle?"_

" _It was Minerva," Eustace said with a hushed tone._

" _The professor helped her?"_

" _No. I mean yes, she was there too, but no. They said it was Minerva._ The _Minerva."_

" _Did you see her? This Minerva?"_

" _Yes."_

" _What did you see?"_

" _She was_ divine _."_

* * *

Minerva brought over the washbasin, her eyes softening as she saw Severus passed out in the nearby chair. He had hardly left her side in all the time she had been asleep. Over the course of the last week, the queen, Viktor's wife, Vladimir's wife, and a chain of other women had come in to tend Hermione. Sometimes, the house-elves would come when things were very quiet. They would tend her tenderly, undressing her, washing her, then dressing her in a fresh gown. They would comb her long hair and move her in different positions, making sure she did not lay still in one place for too long. She always looked as though she would wake at any moment, but that moment never seemed to come.

Now, it was Minerva's turn, and she brought the wash basin over with a handful of towels and a pile of fresh clothes. It seemed so surreal to see Hermione lying there, fully human. She looked so fragile without her thick coat of otter fur.

She propped Hermione up, shimmying her gown off. Dipping the towel into the warm water, she wrung it out, soaped it, and then gently washed Hermione's skin. Surely, Hermione would make a fuss. She was used to taking her baths by bobbing in the soap suds of Severus' bathtub, then she would spend the next hour grooming her fur into place. Once everything was perfect, she would jump into the tidal pool and squeak happily that life was good and she was properly wet again.

Minerva rinsed the cloth and wrung it out again, re-soaped the cloth, and continued her cleansing ritual. As she ran the towel over Hermione's neck she saw a flash of pale, shimmering gold. Curious, she brushed her hair aside, and there on Hermione's neck was an owl, wings spread as though it were in flight, hugging her neck with its full wingspan. Lines of gold and white melded perfectly to form the owl's body and wings. It looked alive, as if at any moment it might come to life and take to the skies. When she touched the owl with the cloth, there was a ripple across her skin like the waving of grasses in the wind. Minerva smelled it: petrichor, the very scent after a rain.

Rinsing the cloth, she continued, As she went down the back, gold and white lines shimmered to life as she drew the soft cloth over her skin. They were wings. Long, barred primaries melted into smaller barred secondaries so real she could see the soft fuzz of an owl's feather. Unable to resist the compulsion, he placed her hand on Hermione's skin, and the feathers ruffled gently against her hand. She pulled back in shock. Her back was smooth once more. Again she reached out, placing her palm ever so gently on Hermione's shoulder blades. Minerva swallowed hard and ran her hand down Hermione's back. The ripple of feathers followed her, soft like the whisper of velvet or the brush of a kitten's silken fur.

Minerva boggled, shaking her head as she continued to bathe Hermione. She went down the left arm and saw the shadow of an aegis—the most ancient shield carried by her namesake. Suspecting something, she looked on the other arm, and a spear marked her other shoulder and moved down her arm. The spear, the aegis, and the owl—all token accoutrements of Minerva—lived in the skin of Hermione's flesh. As her fingers touched each symbol, she knew it was so much more than a marking. It was very breath of the Goddess claiming Hermione as Her own.

 _Blessed Mother. What miracles have you wrought through Your instrument?_

Minerva pulled a new gown over Hermione's head and adjusted it. She tucked her into the bed ever so gently, placing her hand on hers with a tender caress.

 _You were so very brave, my Hermione. Gabriela is fine. She's asking for you. Severus hasn't left your side all this time. You're safe now._

Minerva lowered her lips to Hermione's forehead and kissed it tenderly.

 _We'll be here when you awake, love. Take as long as you need._

* * *

"Things are not the same without you, Miscreant," Severus said, his hand lightly pressing against hers. "There are a thousand new buckets and not one of them have been christened properly by your Royal Squeakiness."

Snape cast his gaze down to her hand. His fingers curled gently around hers. "I suppose your days of swimming in water buckets are over. Filch will be heartbroken."

"Hagrid is collecting owls," he said conversationally. "You would approve. His entire hut is covered in them. All of the owls were rescued from the _Daily Prophet_ building before it disappeared under a pile of steaming corruption, controversy, and greed. The _Quibbler_ is now the de facto source of Wizarding news. Miss Lovegood is ecstatic. Xenophilius is… Xenophilius."

"Your Gringott's account now has a bit more thanks to a most excellent legal case against the Prophet and one Rita Skeeter. Since you and Gabriela almost died thanks to her. I know that the money hardly interests you, but you'll be happy to know that it also went out to many of the people Ms Skeeter preyed upon. Turns out the Prophet knew she was an unregistered Animagus all along. They used her to get information, bribe or blackmail officials, and grease the wheels. Everything belonging to the _Prophet_ ended up being auctioned off and the proceeds split amongst all the people they had attempted to destroy over the years."

"You'll be happy to know that your friend, Mr Weasley, has not gotten his girlfriend pregnant," Snape continued, "and Molly has not sent him to shovel dragon dung for the goblins or for dragon preserve with his brother, Charlie, until he's one hundred and seventeen. I would argue that it would build character for the boy if he did so at least until he was forty, but I doubt Molly would be inclined to listen to me."

"Lily is asking about you, hoping you are well," Severus continued. "She sent cookies. Alas, the entire Royal family has devoured them. The Queen desires the recipe. Lily hasn't given that recipe out in all the years I've known her. I am not sure the Queen of Bulgaria will merit any better treatment."

"Black says you are not allowed to save the day without him, so the next time you throw yourself off a cliff, take him with you," Severus quipped. "I'm sure he didn't mean it that way, but I will admit to being rather amused by the prospect."

"Lupin says full moons are not the same without Your Most Glorious Squeakiness riding Prongs through the woodlands," Severus said with a sniff. "I would argue that the vegetation in the forest is glad of a small reprieve."

"Potter says I am to hug you tight until your eyes bug out," Severus grunted. "I told him he could hug you himself, and I would be happy to watch you springboard off his gonads."

"Mr Weasley wants to know what it's like to fall off a cliff," Severus continued. "I told him it was like falling off a broom from much higher up and with possibly fatal repercussions, and that he was more than welcome to see for himself some time. I asked him to let me know if he would like to try it because I would enjoy watching him attempt flight without a broom."

"Molly tried to beat me over the head with her portable cast-iron frying pan," Severus continued, "but you'll be happy to know that the Royal Guards seem to think that since you apparently find me perfectly agreeable, they are most honored protect me from maniacal red-headed witches wielding frying pans."

"Arthur wants to know if it's true that Bulgarians have e-leck-tri-cities," Severus sighed. "I tried to correct him, but he's convinced the Palace is run by trained elephants on treadmills. I swear to Merlin that man needs to stay away from all Muggle things. That includes vocabulary. I considered gifting him with a cattle prod, but knowing my luck he would point it at his face, and I'd have to explain to Molly why his face suddenly lost the ability to hold its shape."

" Minerva comes in all the time to check on you. Sometimes I wake up with her sleeping on my chest in that adorable fluffy ball you love to pounce on so much." Severus shook his head. "She worries for you, but she believes in her heart that her namesake would not go through all of that to save you just to allow you hibernate for the next three hundred years like Sleeping Beauty. I'm telling you now, if you're sleeping for three hundred years, I doubt you will be interested in courting anyway, and I doubt I'll be in any condition to stop anyone who tries. This would make me extremely cranky, so I would prefer for you to wake up before then."

"There are lots of rumours about what happened," he said. "Even the people who were close enough to see are having a hard time processing what they saw. I was there, and I'm still a bit hazy in some areas. I would prefer if you cut me some slack in this area. It's not every day that your familiar is rescued by a goddess who then hand delivers her newly de-otterfied body."

"You'll be happy to know that Nikolina loves your hair, and she has come in daily to tame it with a flamethrower," Severus said with a sneeze. "I'm sure that's not what she intends it to look like, but she walks in with a collection of flaming sticks, weaves your hair around them, and then arranges them in intricate patterns that seem to make your hair miraculously behave. Your fur was always low-maintenance. Flaming sticks were not required, so if you want to know what she did, you'll have to ask her yourself. I refuse to let her near my own hair. The last time I let someone mess with my hair it ended up looking greasy for nearly fifteen years."

"The king and queen are anxious to see you up and around," Severus said. "I told them if they really want to encourage you to get up, they should simply proceed to stuff your room with countless lockboxes filled with random objects. Eventually you would wake up, or they would one day find you sound asleep inside one of them. Hrm, I suppose that wouldn't be a completely fool-proof plan. Forget I said anything."

Severus was quiet for a while. He sat back in his chair and sighed. "You'll be happy to know that Potter and the sidekicks have finally expressed a desire to learn Potions, and they all wanted to borrow your books and notes since you're currently not using them," he said. "I told them if you didn't tell me otherwise, I'd certainly let them borrow them, but I can't really vouch for the condition they'll be in when they're finished using them. I seem to recall that the last one Potter borrowed was unfortunately found in a mud puddle on the Quidditch pitch—"

Hermione's hand shot out like a viper and clamped tightly on Severus' wrist. "Don't. You. Dare." Her voice was raspy with ill-use, sounding much like she had attempted to gargle with beakers filled with yeast.

Whisky-brown eyes opened and stared into Severus' face.

Small tugs of a smile twitched the corners of Snape's mouth.

"Liar," she hissed.

He arched a brow at her.

"You said that," she growled. "Just to get a rise out of me."

"You're not very risen," Snape commented idly. "Just look at how you are lying all sprawled out on this bed like you have no bones and absolutely nothing better to do."

"Fffshhhhhhh," she groaned, her arm twitching.

"Almost six years of glorious top-notch education comes down to an exemplar vocabulary better suited to a Neanderthal," he replied.

Hermione mumbled incoherently into the mattress something that sounded suspiciously like a number of Greek profanities.

"You had a better command of the Queen's English as a furry menace, I fear," Snape commented. "Whatever shall we do with you?"

Hermione winced, turning her head away, and Snape froze, his black eyes searching her face for some clue as to what had triggered the change.

He reached out, touching her chin with his fingertips. "Menace, what is it?"

Hermione looked so very vulnerable, her hands trembling. She scratched her arms where the fabric touched her, seemingly unused to the sensation of it covering her skin. Her eyes met his, turbulent emotions flickering in them. "Will you still like me when I look like this?" she asked, voice lowered into a whisper. There was a naked vulnerability in her expression. "When I'm not your otter?"

Severus' expression softened, and he opened his arms to her. "Stupid girl," he sighed. "You'll always be my otter."

Hermione's eyes watered with relief and she used all of her energy to fling herself into his embrace, smashing her head into his chest and burrowing into his familiar black robes. She let out a ragged, emotional breath.

"I heard your voice," she confessed, "calling me home."

Severus pressed his hand to her hair and held it there. "And where is home, my Menace?"

Suddenly, there was a female cave lion in his face. Her long canine teeth pressed against his aquiline nose. Her giant paws pressed against his shoulders, shoving him down into the chair. She jammed her head against his, stabbing him with her whiskers.

"Home is where you are," she purred, and suddenly her human arms were wrapped around his waist again, and she clung to him tightly, pressing her face into his robes, breathing in the scent of herbs and smoke that was the ultimate in comfort and reassurance to her.

Slowly, Severus placed his hand on the back of her head, tucking her under his chin. He pressed his chin to the top of her head as his eyelids closed. One solitary tear slid down the length of his nose and dripped down the soft skin of her neck.

Unseen by him, the wings of the great owl flapped, and the scent of petrichor filled the room.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 **A/N:** What is this thing called sleep? Help, I'm abusing my Beta! Wait, should I be confessing to that? Uh.. erm… nothing to see here. Moving on.


	6. Chapter 6 What Otter You Up To?

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for your very kind reviews. You guys are the best. Ff dot net finally fixed the review bug, so I can actually see them! Horray! All of you make me so very happy. I feel like I have a little Ottermione curled up in my heart.

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, fluffpanda

* * *

 **Glad it Wasn't Me**

 **Chapter 6: What Otter You Up To?**

"What are you thinking about, Menace?" Severus asked.

"The fall," Hermione said, staring out over the ocean. "Gabriela was so determined to keep her bug to show the queen. Even after Rita cast that spell so she could escape, she caught her again and held tight, even as we were falling." Hermione scratched herself, still too unused to the feel of clothing on her skin.

"I tried to pull her up and break her fall," Hermione remembered. "I flapped so hard my wings were burning. Professor McGonagall tried to slow us with a spell, but we entered the mist. The mist was so thick I could not see. We landed between rocks that were so pointed, they looked like daggers. You couldn't see them at first because of the mist. Then, suddenly, you saw them all too clearly."

"We hit the water, and it was cold, so very cold," Hermione remembered. "Even to me, it was cold. That was when Gabriela's bug suddenly turned into a woman. Gabriela shrieked, and as I was swimming to them, the undertow took them. It swallowed them both up and pulled them under."

"I dove under and swam. I swam so hard, chasing the flow of the undertow to get to her. I didn't have much by way of reserves left. I had enough for maybe one more spell. I cast a Bubble-Head charm on her as I swam. I let the undertow pull me along with it until I could grab onto her dress, but once I got to her, I realised I didn't have enough strength to swim back out of the current. I clung to her, telling her to close her eyes and think of the warmth of the sun. She was crying, crying. She wanted her dad and her mum. She was so scared."

"I told her stories of how I was once a little girl, just like her," Hermione recalled. "She was shivering. Her skin was turning blue. The rip current had taken us so far away. Then I saw the surface again. I used all I had left to get her to the surface, but all around us was that heavy mist. And I was so very tired. The woman—Rita—I lost track of her. The currents had torn her away from us. I didn't have the strength to search for her too. It was all I could do to remain on the surface so Gabriela could keep clinging to me, I was so desperate to stay afloat and share the last of my remaining warmth with her."

"Then, I felt it," Hermione recollected. "The warmth of wings—the warmth of the sun. A light so bright and warm that the mists just rolled away. I felt loving arms around me and the gentle press of lips against my forehead. That was when I knew it would be okay."

 _Sleep, daughter. Sleep._

Hermione turned to face Severus, her whisky-brown eyes meeting his. "I lived a rich and long life. I walked amongst sphinx and ophiotaurus. I was taught to hunt by Diana, taught language by Chiron, taught thousands of curses by the Arae, taught to swim by Charybdis, learned to sing from the Sirens, learned to ride astride the stallion, Pegasus, and at night my Mother put me to sleep with ancient poems of heroes and magic. Some days I would learn the intricacies of commerce, but on other days it was the art of thread, shuttle, and loom or medicine. There was always more to learn. There was always something else. The tapestry was never entirely complete. There was always one more path to travel, or one more song to sing. Then, one night, I heard your voice, and you threatened my books."

Severus' brows furrowed. "I interrupted a lifetime of learning?"

Hermione smiled, shaking her head. "One more path, Professor. Yours was the path back home."

"And what did a lifetime of divine knowledge teach you?" Severus asked, one eyebrow arching into his hair.

Suddenly Hermione was an otter. She squeaked happily as she dashed out the chamber door, "Life is short. Find a bucket!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Normality descended upon the House of Krum with one single exception. The Krums finally met their daughter face-to-face without having to kneel down to look her in the eye. Those such as Severus, Minerva, and Viktor recognised the small, yet significant changes in her. She carried herself with an eerie sort of grace. She listened intently, just as she had as an otter, but when required to give an answer she did not blurt out the first thing that came to mind. She seemed to weigh her thoughts more carefully before choosing to share them.

In the times when she seemed the most concerned for the people or the welfare of those around her, she was usually in otter form. She squeaked her inquiry and delighted her audiences, charming them as quickly as she always had. People found her so much more approachable, and she seemed to realise that was much to her advantage. She could pry information out of someone who was suffering much faster. She could do the same with someone who was hiding things from her as well, and it soon became clear that none were safe from the insatiable curiosity of Ottermione, near-death experience or no.

There were other times when Hermione seemed much more sombre. Her emotions were more carefully controlled, her judgements more impartial, and her regard more critical. She was not, they noticed, completely removed from her emotions, but it seemed as though she had reached a sort of balance within herself. During such times, she walked on two feet as a human witch, just as she had first arrived in the mundane world.

Sometimes, however, the guards would look up on the highest part of the castle and see a shimmering ivory and gold owl perched still and silent as she looked out over the vast ocean. Then, just when they were finally convinced she was a new statue, she would blink or move ever so slightly. If they looked away for too long, she would disappear, leaving only silence in her wake along with the scent of petrichor.

At the most still and quiet moments in the palace, however, the guards would watch two enormous cave lions walking side-by-side as they patrolled the silent corridors together. Their thick, tawny fur seemed to blend into their surroundings, making them seem like large feline ghosts from a time long past. Sometimes, a smaller cat would join them, her grey and silver fur shining in contrast to the much larger brush-coloured felines. The cave lions seemed to speak to each other, rumbling and growling with the low "hhhnnnnnnn hnnnnnn hggggnnna" in what could only be described as conversation. The grey tabby would reply in miniature, her soft meows seeming like the chime of a bell in comparison to the low, rumbling utterances of her larger fellows. Yet, size was no indicator of respect, for while the cave lions dwarfed their companion in size, they clearly bowed to the whims of the much smaller cat, following her down the halls she chose with nary a hint of hesitation.

* * *

One day, Hermione requested a building project from her father king, and within a week, serious planning had begun on what would be, as far as they knew, the first Shrine to Minerva to be constructed since the age when Athens was at the height of its glory and the Parthenon was anything but a dead and crumbling remnant of considerable historical significance. Many shrines to the Greek Athena had been built then and these continued to exist in varying states of decay, such as the great Parthenon. Minerva even had a shrine in Edgar's Field, Handbridge, Chester in England, but none of them were still actively being used. Hermione donated to the project using the funds she had been awarded as a result of the lengthy legal proceedings against the _Daily Prophet_ , and the remainder was provided by both the royal family and the Bulgarian people. Once the people were made aware of the project, they were more than happy to volunteer their time and talents. Donations came in from all over the world, and Greece even donated a three-headed dog pup to train to become a guardian of the finished shrine. Rome sent over their most talented stone carvers, but only the ones who specialised in the greatly revered Old Ways of sculpture.

Priestess Noctua from Athens made the long flight from her homeland to Bulgaria to formally bless the grounds, and the Shark King and his Queen had assigned her royal quarters, that she might personally oversee the construction. Being highly impressed with her, they offered to make the situation permanent once the construction of the shrine had been completed. The elder priestess accepted the offer on the condition that her hand-picked candidates would train with her to assist with the tending of the shrine and also live with her on the shrine's extensive grounds.

Construction began within the month with sacred stone being meticulously selected and Apparated to the site one lot at a time. Upon arrival, each shipment was then prayed over by Priestess Noctua. Offerings of tapestries, musical instruments, crafts, and countless other gifts arrived for the project, and the Priestess carefully preserved each one, squirreling them away until they could be placed in the shrine when it was finally completed.

Puppy training began immediately, with Viktor and his brothers assisting in ensuring that the pup learned who was who, who to protect, and who to allow safely by and when. They learned that it was a good thing there were three brothers. One brother trained each head, and thankfully the body followed the heads. His training was considered a success, when he caught someone trying to steal offerings from the shrine's grounds and the pup promptly sat on them until help arrived.

* * *

"Seems like he learned that from you," Hermione commented.

"Me?" Severus asked, arching a brow.

"I know how you like to sit on Remus whenever he gets too frisky on full moons," Hermione said, lifting a brow.

"I do not _like_ sitting on Lupin," Severus corrected. "He gets himself sat upon due to his regrettable tendency to become overly hyper. Besides, as I recall, you quite enjoyed sitting on Black when he tried to sneak off with your apology biscuit from Lily."

Hermione snickered into her sleeve and left it at that.

* * *

Hermione walked onto the shrine grounds, removing her shoes as she passed up the stereobate and past the upper stair that made up the stylobate. She placed her shoes by one of the outer columns, moving under the entablature. She walked silently to the where the innermost area of the shrine would be when it was completed. In the center of an area that was currently half blocked off, Hermione saw the beginning of form taking shape in the granite. Eventually, it would the centerpiece of the shrine—the effigy of the Goddess Minerva, or, as the Greeks referred to her: Athena.

There was a low triple-woof, and Hermione turned to see the dutiful three-headed guardian hard at work.

"Hello, Aleksei," she greeted.

The dog bounded up to her, his tail wagging furiously in greeting. All three heads slammed into her and knocked her down, nuzzling and licking.

"Hey, now," Hermione protested, putting her hands around his heads to pull herself up. "That's not very nice."

Aleksei whined and slobbered on her ears.

"Everything peaceful, tonight?" she asked.

Aleksei woofed.

"I'm glad," she answered. "Have you been keeping Mother company?"

The dog barked, wagging his tail.

Hermione smiled and knelt at the stone that would eventually be a glorious statue. She sat down, crossing her legs, and held her arms out neutrally. Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind.

The three-headed canine snuffled her and lay down beside her with a soft whine, then laid his head on his enormous paws and waited.

Hermione's body began to shimmer as ivory and gold wings unfolded from her back, spreading out in a protective curve around her sitting form.

"Mother," Hermione whispered, her voice ethereal and distant. "I miss our talks. You were right, as you always are. I did hear the voice calling me back to this home at last. I do not regret it. It is but another path, like so many others before it."

Wisps of vapor swirled around Hermione's body. "I miss Chiron's stories and his songs. I miss the tapestries with the old stories remembering the oldest heroes, and the songs of the sirens that told of distant stars and purple seas, orange grass and blue trees. You were right, my masters and my family had worried for me greatly, and I did miss them, just as I miss you now. Thank you for taking care of me while I found my way to You."

The mist dissipated, and Hermione took a deep breath before opening her eyes.

"It's hard," a kindly voice said, causing Hermione to turn to face the speaker. The elder priestess walked forward. "Once you have tasted the life beyond, trying not to influence others and allowing them to make their own choices takes considerable effort."

Hermione smiled and nodded in agreement.

"But that is what we must do," Priestess Noctua said warmly. "That is what _She_ wishes us to do. Then, if they choose to ask the proper questions, we may guide them along Her path, but not before."

"Priestess," Hermione said, bowing her head.

"Sister," Noctua replied with a warm smile.

Hermione startled and then beamed.

"It takes a true prayer and a selfless heart to turn our Mother's head, Hermione," the priestess said. "There are many prayers. Some selfless and some not. Some are general, and some are detailed and specific, but there are far more prayers that lack that special something than ones that draw Her direct interest."

"She seems so calm, all the time," Hermione noted.

"She is a goddess, my sister," Noctua said with a smile. "She is also not a raging god whose purpose is to consume the heart with hatred or sow Her people with strife and conflict. Hers is to inspire, guide, and direct. When all that fails, only then does Her hand reach for Her weapon, and at that point, Her enemies will know no mercy."

Hermione gave off a bemused smile. She stared at the elder priestess with renewed interest. "You were waiting for a long time for this shrine to come into being."

Noctua smiled. "I have learned infinite patience serving our Mother, Hermione."

Hermione tilted her head. "Most people would not consider hundreds of years patience." She looked directly into the priestess' eyes. "Or thousands."

Noctua smiled knowingly. "Someone had to remain to teach the future how to pay our Mother proper respect. In such a modern time, when the old ways have been forgotten, and the old Shrines lay in ruins, little remains of what once was." She lit a stick of heady incense and placed it in a shell at what would become the foot of Minerva's statue in time. She pressed her hands together and bowed respectfully. "I have waited many lifetimes for our Mother's regard to return to this world, Hermione. In all the thousands of years, faith became a mere shade of what it once was. Now, instead of those we once knew commonly, even if by by a different name to the same aspect of the Divine, the modern age tends to shun the names of the gods more often than they call them by name. So few of the Old Religions remain. Even fewer remember that while the stories were often anecdotes for living, the gods were still gods."

"When I was little, my father—" Hermione stopped, wincing slightly. "Dr Granger used to read me stories from this large book of Greek and Roman Mythology. He used to say they were better than fairy tales because, once, they were very real to a united people."

"In a time when the written word was rare and available to only a few," Noctua commented, "the stories that were the most fantastic were often the ones people remembered. Of course, the more fantastic the story, the more it evolved and grew into something more, and by the time it made it into the written word it was like what people today call a 'big fish story'."

Hermione grinned. "Yet, there was still a grain of truth to them."

"Ah, but you see," Noctua replied. "That is where we come in. We must separate the truth from the legend. At least, that is my task. Yours, my sister, may be something we have yet to see."

"Cryptic," Hermione mused.

"Many years of practice, Hermione," the elder priestess replied.

Noctua pulled up her robe sleeves, baring her upper arms. On the right arm, she wore the olive branch, and on the left the serpent coiled tightly around her arm. "We each have our Goddess-given paths, Hermione. Mine, since the moment our Mother did wrap me in Her embrace, has been one of peace and healing."

She smiled as Hermione touched her arms, pulling up her sleeves to stare at the shimmering gold and white lines which seemed alive under her skin. "Yours is the path of protection and the power to mete out Her divine justice. Through Her spear, you have been given clarity of purpose. Your aim will remain true. Each of us have been given a task. Mine and yours are but different trails to the same end."

"To see our Mother again," Hermione said softly.

Noctua nodded with a genuine smile. "When our tasks are done, we will see Her again, and perhaps, we will see more familiar faces when we do."

Aleksei woofed in triplicate, tail wagging.

"Isn't it past time for all good little dogs to be in bed?" the Priestess chided.

Aleksei whined, giving her sorrowful puppy-dog eyes thrice over.

Noctua shook her head. "I suppose I still have to walk the grounds, so you might as well accompany me, pup."

Aleksei woofed happily, tail wagging furiously.

"Thousands of years, my sister," Hermione chided. "And one three-headed puppy already has you wrapped around his paws."

Noctua chuckled. "We all have our weaknesses, Hermione. Age does not obliterate my soft spot for animals such as he."

Hermione grinned. "At least you aren't illegally breeding blast-ended skrewts and setting them free in the forest."

The priestess raised an eyebrow. "I fear I have no idea of what manner of beast you speak of. Is it an English creature?"

Hermione frowned, and then shook her head violently. The very thought of the elder priestess—both a lover of all misfit animals and dutiful protectress of the young and innocent—would find Hagrid simultaneously fascinating and horrifying. Perhaps she would find the animals fascinating, but

Hagrid himself was a man who both loved children and then blithely tried to kill them in the next hour. The irony was that he would never dream of intentionally killing or even injuring a child. The problem was many of his projects would gladly trample, stalk, pounce, maul, and otherwise grievously injure someone. There was, for example, the matter of that "adorable" baby kelpie he had rescued and then tried to release into the Black Lake because 'he's 'armless.' Thankfully, or unfortunately, depending on who you asked, the giant squid was not at all amused by the flesh-eating horse-shaped water demon sharing his lake and promptly flung the kelpie out of "his lake." It did not end well for the kelpie. Albus spent the next week trying to explain to Hagrid why he couldn't just "adopt" things without asking when he lived on the grounds of a school filled with hundreds of children.

Hagrid would always hang his head and say he understood, then, maybe not even a month later, something else would come up. Unbeknownst to Severus, Albus had "hired" Hermione with a tin of lemon drops to keep an eye on Hagrid after his "talking to." Her task was to insure he didn't come home from Hogsmeade with a baby chimaera, a nundu, a basilisk egg, a dragon egg, or a Mackled Malaclaw. If he did, however, she was to report it. That went on for a few months, and Hermione had dutifully done as the Headmaster had asked, but perhaps three days after Dumbledore pulled Hermione off Hagrid-sitting duty, Hagrid brought home a occamy egg and hatched it. Albus found out when the baby occamy, which was happily imprinted on Hagrid, saw everyone else as a threat to its territory and proceeded to attack them.

Several crying and injured children had to be taken to the infirmary, Dumbledore was told. The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures immediately came to the school to investigate. The Occamy was examined after being stunned no less than twelve times directly in the face. While it wasn't illegal to possess an Occamy, they were notoriously aggressive creatures and the only time they were more troublesome than usual was while they were guarding a nest of eggs. Dumbledore made the executive decision to turn the creature over to the Department, a heartbroken Hagrid left Dumbledore's office in floods of tears, and the Board of Governors began to consider whether allowing Silvanus Kettleburn to retire had been a wise decision.

Hermione took a deep breath. "We have a professor at the school I attend who is notorious for adopting dangerous magical creatures. Sometimes, he breeds them together. The results are usually even more dangerous creatures, which he believes to be harmless, and then he releases them into the dark forest next to the school."

The priestess gave a slow blink. "He sounds like quite an… interesting fellow."

Hermione gave a sad smile. "He needs much more to do to, hopefully, keep him out of trouble," she observed. "Much like my Master attempts to give me a horrible list of things to do to keep me from finding and pillaging his secret stash of oatmeal biscuits.

Noctua grinned. "It didn't work, did it?"

Hermione gave a very Ottermione smile. "It never does."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Luna skipped down the halls of the palace with good-natured humour, her attention focusing on many different things as she did so. She noticed, for example, that the palace was strangely free of Nargles, yet there was plenty of mistletoe growing on the grounds. She watched people as they passed, looking to see if they had their Butterbeer cork necklaces but found not a single one. Seeing as none of them were wearing corks, she kept an eye out for Dirigible plums, yet she saw none.

The climate in Bulgaria seemed quite favourable for Dirigible plums, but Luna pondered if being too close to the sea would affect the growth of the tree. She found the climate quite pleasing, but she wasn't a plum tree, so there was something to be said about the possibilities that both Dirigible plums and Nargles did not enjoy the coastal life and brisk sea air.

After having had to Floo into a private waiting area and wait for a handful of very dour-looking individuals to look her over, pat her down, check her wand for previous spells, and subject her all manner of questions, she was eventually led into rather small office where an elder witch asked to see the list of questions she was going to ask pertaining to the royal family. Having been forewarned about what was most likely going to happen, she was ready with a numbered list of primary, secondary, and backup questions in the case the original question was off limits.

The woman browsed the list and seemed to be satisfied, and Luna was permitted to wait in yet another waiting room as the King made a final pass over the questions and Luna's press credentials before she would be allowed through the main doors in the hopes of seeing someone other than another series of guards. The wait was not, as Luna had supposed it would be, overly long, and a kindly elderly man brought her tea and biscuits to pass the time.

The biscuits fascinated her. Each one was cut and impressed with an image of a creature that looked very much like a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and even the icing was a violet and tan that seemed as though the cook knew what colour the Crumple-Horned Snorkack really was. Perhaps they did not just live in Sweden as she and her father had presumed. She wished she had known this beforehand. She would definitely have put the question about Snorkacks on the list. Alas, she would have to stick to the previously agreed-upon questions or her visiting privileges would be immediately and permanently revoked. And the Bulgarian royal family would hardly be inclined to relax in their rules, no thanks to one Rita Skeeter. Negotiations were still ongoing as to who would get to incarcerate her and where. Britain had quite a long list of interested parties, some of whom weren't even British, who still insisted on receiving their pound of flesh from the greatly-reviled beetle Animagus. Bulgaria, particularly, had taken Rita's actions very, very personally. As if deliberately endangering the life of an innocent child wasn't enough, likewise endangering the life of King's daughter on top of that wasn't doing Rita any favours. She had also managed to maim the sacred blue-leafed sea-willow that had watching over the cliffs for well over a hundred years, and she had drugged Prince Stoyan on her single-minded quest for a juicy story and a front page headline. There was also the matter that every single one of the guests who even suspected they might have been dosed with Veritaserum wanted to pound her into the ground and some others merely out of principle. One thing was for certain, if Rita Skeeter ever got out of Bulgaria, a few hundred more very serious personal and legal problems were awaiting her in her home Country.

Luna looked up as the door opened, and the elder witch that had first greeted her came back in. She handed the parchment of questions back to her with a nod. "You questions have been approved, Miss Lovegood. Her Highness is currently entertaining some of the palace children, but she has sent word to allow you in once our business here has been concluded."

Luna smiled. "Thank you. It wasn't a problem at all. And I really enjoyed the biscuits."

The woman smiled. "Our baker makes them for the children. He loves to entertain them by making whimsical creatures. Those happen to be one of the palace favourites. The only ones that have more recently been popular are the otter and dolphin shortbreads."

"I would love to know what he calls them," Luna couldn't help but ask.

The woman paused, pondering a moment. "He named them after the old poem by the Muggle, Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. 'Jabberwocky', I believe, was the name of the poem."

"He had used the pen name Lewis Carroll," Luna said wistfully. "My mother used to read his stories to me as a small child. She said that the man himself was a bit of an enigma, but his stories were so very entertaining. When my mother died, my father didn't have the heart to read the stories to me anymore. He chose, instead, to school me on the unseen mysteries of the Wizarding world. I fear I was quite the handful. Too much for a man who was utterly lost after the death of my mother."

"I am most troubled to hear that you lost your mother so early in life, Miss Lovegood," the elder witch said. "Here at the palace, the Shark King insures that all of our children have the same education and access to support both inside and outside of their biological families. In the old days, it was too frequent that one of the parents met with misfortune, so it became commonplace that our children were all raised together, sharing parents with the other families. This, in turn, fostered strong ties of loyalty to the whole, something sorely needed when a parent was lost."

"Families tend to stick to their own where I'm from," Luna said. "They so easily see the strangeness in others and use it as a reason to separate themselves from their neighbours. I used to be laughed at as young child, and father would say it was because they couldn't see the things that I could."

The elder witch seemed sad, but she nodded. "Come, I will take you inside."

Luna allowed herself to take in the splendor of the Bulgarian Wizarding Palace with a little bit of awe. England had their royal family, so it was not that she was so unfamiliar with the idea of royalty, as much it was so different to see a Wizarding royal family. Throughout history, royalty was often something based on the divine right to rule, whether you traced your line back to the prevailing god or, in some cases, were as one in the eyes of the people.

Bulgaria's Shark King was magical, but so, too, were the people he presided over. Unlike in England, where the throne was not connected to the Wizarding world in a significant manner, Bulgaria's Wizarding royal family took an avid interest in the goings-on in the Muggle world. They had great relationships with the top scientists of their time, made frequent trips into the Muggle areas, and tried to foster a symbiosis between the two domains: the magical and the non. It wasn't to say that Bulgaria did not protect its magic from the majority of the Muggle populace, but there were many traditions held in the Country that had never lost their roots to a time when both worlds were one and the same.

Also unlike the majority of Wizarding Britain, the Bulgarian palace was a mixture of both magic and Muggle science. While most of Britain maintained that a mix of such things was patently impossible, the evidence otherwise was quite clear within the palace. Electric lights replaced candles, but there were no switches. The lights were operated by magic. As the woman opened the doors to the inner palace, she placed her hand on a scanning device, punched a code into a number pad, and then waved her wand to cast a silent spell at the lock. Luna could feel the wards retract to allow them inside, and she had to admit that it was all very impressive.

As they walked into what appeared to be an indoor hanging garden and aqueduct, Luna smiled as clusters of fairies flitted about the hanging plants. Some of them were sitting on the leaves, grooming themselves fastidiously. Brightly-coloured cocoons adorned quite a few leaves, leading Luna to realise that this particular garden was more than just for show. It was a true habitat.

Just as she came to that conclusion, it was confirmed by the sight of a Bowtruckle sitting nigh invisibly on one of the tree limbs. Its long fingers looked like branches, and its face was seemingly constructed of the bark and twigs of its tree home. Hagrid would be in awe, Luna mused, seeing such a sanctuary where the cycle of life was so close to home. Bowtruckles always made for a healthy tree, thanks to its diet of wood lice, but if fairies got out of hand in its home tree, it was not above dining on the very plentiful fairy eggs.

Nearby a thin and somewhat sad-looking bird let out a mournful cry. It's long green and black feathers draped down in a long cascade. It peered at her from behind the one the aqueduct waterfalls and snapped at a passing fly that had flitted too closely to its sharp beak. _Irish Phoenix_ , Luna thought with amusement. They were such misunderstood birds. Her father called them Augureys, and Luna had fond memories of her childhood calling them Aunties.

" _No, Luna," her father would chide. "Augurey."_

" _Auntie!" toddler Luna would cry excitedly._

" _Aug ew re," her father tried again._

" _Awn tie!" Luna repeated._

 _Xenophilius would sigh, shaking his head._

The phoenix settled into its tear-shaped nest of thorns and brambles, yawning beakily. Suddenly, Luna saw something she recognised.

A full-grown phoenix and its fluffy lint-ball chick were saddled up next to the grumpy-looking Irish Phoenix and warbling a joyous song. She recognised the crown of blue feathers on his head and the distinctive purple feet. He had been the runt in the Aviary at Hogwarts, picked on by some of his brethren for being underfoot and looking "strange." Luna had always had a tender spot for him and had allowed him to sit on her shoulder as she studied in the Aviary. The chick had always seemed to adore people and made himself quite a pest. Luna had named him September because all of his fellow nestlings had hatched in August, and the last check had finally broken out of his shell in mid-September, fashionably late. While all the phoenixes sang glorious songs, Luna thought September's were the most endearing.

Sure enough, as September sang his song, the grumpy-looking Augurey seemed to perk up and began singing with him. The older phoenix preened the younger chick and shared his tear-shaped nest. The pair settled behind the waterfall, a yin-yang of emerald green and flaming orange and red.

One of the fairies flew too close to the nesting phoenixes, and while September seemed to tolerate the fairy fluttering around its head with some amusement, the older and grumpier phoenix's beak snapped up the fairy, and it was gone.

Luna widened her eyes and shrugged. It was the cycle of life.

Children were giggling nearby, and the elder witch parted from her as she gestured for Luna to go on through. Luna smiled at her and waved.

Luna watched as Ottermione stood surrounded by happy children. She had a teaching board beside her on which she had diagrammed the life cycle of the fairy and the Bowtruckle. The children were watching with rapt attention, giggling as the otter was obviously teaching them something exciting. One of the children had a fairy grooming herself on the rim of their glasses. All the others turned around to look at it in fascination. The child in question was going cross-eyed in an attempt to watch what was almost too close to be seen.

The lesson seemed to be concluding, and the otter squeaked cheerfully to each of them as she banished the lesson board. Then, like a switch had been flipped, the children were on the move. A young girl scooped the otter up and tried to carry her, which didn't look quite so dignified. The otter was quite large, Luna noticed, far larger than she had been when Luna had first met her in school. Her fuzz had been replaced with thicker adult hair, and her brown body had started to grizzle into blond around her head and down her belly. Ottermione was showing the signs of adulthood, at least by otter standards.

The children giggled, helping lift the otter up together and carry her with them. The otter squeaked indignantly, but she allowed it, using her front paws to drape herself over the child's shoulder. The children took turns carrying her about, trying to figure out who could actually carry her without ending up with some part of her furry body dragging behind them.

Luna chuckled. Hermione seemed to encourage them to interact with her, and unlike at Hogwarts, where she seemed almost aloof from her fellow classmates, she seemed perfectly okay with sharing space with the Bulgarian children. There was a tolerance about her, far more than she had with the rumour-mongering and gossip that usually saturated Hogwarts life. There was acceptance from the children, too. This group of kids didn't see anything unnatural about being taught by an otter. There was a respect given that was more than just some knowledge of her family. She has something to teach, and they had something to learn. Luna wondered how well that mindset would go over in Hogwarts, where most people dreaded every assignment that required extra work and more than a few inches of parchment. Well, most students outside of Ravenclaw did. Hufflepuff were all about working hard, but that didn't always translate to parchment writing. Gryffindor bravely faced their foes, unless it was homework. Then they tended to find other reasons face the danger of being bored.

The children giggled and laughed as they plunked the heavy otter into the fountain with a sploosh. She disappeared under the surface and vanished. The kids put their hands in, feeling around for her, chattering with each other in concern that they had lost her. Then, in a sudden splash, Ottermione came up, put whiskers in their face, and snorted. She disappeared again as the children squealed.

Luna chuckled, watching them with interest as the children scurried around, hoping to catch her.

"They'll be looking for me for an hour," Hermione said, suddenly next to her. Her whisky brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Walk with me?"

"Of course, your Highness," Luna replied smoothly.

"In public, perhaps, but here or within the halls of Hogwarts, I am just Hermione," she chuckled, setting off in a smooth walk. "Let me see your questions," she added, holding out her hand.

Luna handed her scroll over.

Hermione chuckled as she read them. "Do you wish me to answer them with canned responses, or would you prefer real answers?"

Luna smiled. "Are the questions not to your liking?"

"Oh, they are very official, Luna," Hermione laughed. "I'm sure father was very thorough making sure you went through all the proper channels."

Luna nodded. "Will I be thrown headfirst into the Floo if I ask you a question that's not on the scroll?"

Hermione's eyes sparkled. "That depends on how amicable I'm feeling, I suppose."

Luna's face was serene.

Hermione led Luna out past the gardens and down a coastal path. "I took the liberty of dismissing our normal required chaperones since we have known each other long before all of this drama went down."

Luna watched the seagulls swoop and glide around them interest. As they walked, however, she noticed that the gulls had been replaced by owls. They flew overhead with soft hoots as their silent wings carried them ever higher on the updrafts.

Hermione sat down on a hillside bench that had been so expertly crafted to look like a natural part of the area that Luna could barely tell it was a functional bench at all. She realised that the "bench" was actually two trees, intertwined and grown together to be both beautiful and functional.

"It's beautiful," Luna said. "Do you have Arboromancers? Father says it's a lost art."

"Bulgaria harbours a lot of magic that England would rather us think was lost, I believe," Hermione confessed. "This bench here is my favourite. Father says it's over five hundred years old."

Luna ran her hands over the smooth trunks and branches that had formed such a wondrous sitting place. The branches above provided just enough shade and shelter from the wind. Moss grew thickly over the sitting area, making for a comfortable and natural seat. Luna sat down, bouncing a little with a smile.

"Bulgaria seems like a bit of a sanctuary for lost arts," Hermione said after a while. "Father has Wizarding folk from quite a few places around the world living here and working their trades. There are quite a few families from Japan living in the nearby town that is very much like Hogsmeade is for us. One family tends to the gardens and constructs the trellises. Another maintains the ponds and fountains. They take so much pride in what they do. It was so amazing to meet them."

"It seems like you found your niché in life, Hermione," Luna observed. "You were always happy before, but not you seem very content as well."

"Nothing like falling off a cliff to make everything seem so much more precious," Hermione confessed.

"Most would prefer to find enlightenment without nearly falling to their deaths,"Luna replied.

"I suppose so," Hermione answered.

"Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall are staying here with you as well?" Luna enquired.

Hermione nodded, leaning back on the bench and closing her eyes. "They live here as well," she said casually. "It would be a bit silly to have my masters commuting here by Floo every day."

Luna startled. "That is quite practical. I suppose people were presuming it would be a temporary situation until you graduate."

Hermione chuckled. "They are my… most trusted counsel, or so the very official parchment that describes our current occupation tells me. The bond between master and apprentice is something highly regarded, especially here in Bulgaria. Short of the bond between family, which is often not a choice, the apprentice bond is a lifelong trust. It is unthinkable to even consider breaking it."

"I think most people presume it's like growing up," Luna supposed. "Once you come of age, you finally part ways."

"I've already been forced to break the ties I thought could not be broken," Hermione said sombrely. "That was bad enough and it wasn't even a magical bond."

Luna lost her smile. "I ask this not as a reporter. What happened?"

Hermione looked out over the ocean. "Not even a year into Hogwarts, I was transformed into an otter. When Headmaster Dumbledore attempted to explain to my parents that the otter was me, they couldn't accept it. They refused to accept it. To them, I was merely a trained animal—a cruel trick. They accused Dumbledore of trying to cover up that something horrible had happened to me. They just didn't understand that what had happened to me was right in front of their eyes. They couldn't accept that it could possibly be permanent. Since Professor Dumbledore had no way of knowing if or when I'd be able to change back, he couldn't promise them that he could make things right. Wizarding families know that magic sometimes does what we do not intend, but it wasn't like my parents could visit me at Hogwarts. They had never even seen Hogwarts. That stuff the MWEA does? Maybe it would have been different if my parents had been given the official tour of Hogwarts before I started like they do now for Muggle families with magical children. If they had seen magic in action before their daughter was transformed, maybe… maybe they would have handled things differently. Unfortunately, it didn't quite work out that way."

"Do you see them at all?" Luna asked.

Hermione let out her breath slowly. "I haven't seen either of them since I was eleven, staring up at my parents from the floor as they signed the papers to make me a legal ward of Hogwarts."

"They… disowned you?" Luna looked truly shocked.

* * *

" _No!" Mrs Granger wailed, wringing her hands. "I will not accept that… that this animal is my daughter! My daughter is a kind and loving child. She is not an animal!"_

 _Hermione stood on her rear legs and reached out to touch her mother's leg, staring up at her. "Mom, it's me!" she tried to say, but all that came out was otter squeaks._

 _Mrs Granger recoiled, putting her arm around Mr Granger's. "That is not my daughter. You can take that ridiculous trained animal back with you. If you don't come back with my real daughter, then don't bother coming back at all."_

 _Mr Granger was trying to console her, but she wasn't having any of it._

" _Mr and Mrs Granger," Dumbledore reasoned. "Please. This is your daughter. There is a good chance that this is temporary, but I had to tell you the situation just in case we cannot reverse the effects by the time term ends. I would not want you to be taken aback by her appearance when she comes home for—"_

" _That creature," Mr Granger said, his voice dark and menacing, "is not welcome here. We will not even entertain the idea that our daughter has been transformed by 'magic' into an animal. Now you take that animal, and you leave our home immediately."_

 _Hermione bounded over to the bookshelf where the photo albums were. She pulled out the one with her baby and primary school pictures in it. She turned the page to her favourite picture of her father reading to her in the library as she sat in one of the comfy beanbag chairs in the children's section. "Dad, it's me!" she entreated. "Daddy, please!"_

 _The reaction was not at all what she had expected. Mrs Granger began to wail hysterically. Mr Granger, however, merely grew ever angrier by the minute. "You have trained this creature well, whoever you are, I'll give you that. And you may have even listened to my daughter's favourite story of how her father had always read to her in the library since the day she was born, but this farce has gone on long enough. I don't believe you are the Headmaster of any school. I think you're just preying on innocent people whose children are sent off to boarding school where we can't contact them. I want you to leave our home."_

 _Hermione, desperate to prove herself, bounded down the hallway to her room. She tried to jump up on the bed, but it was too high. She had to use her claws to climb up. She tore at the duvet, trying to pull herself up. Her favourite stuffed toy was up there, surrounded in other toys. Surely if she showed them that they would know it was her!_

 _She heaved herself up on the top of the bed, panting, and made a bee-line towards the little stuffed owl that had been her most favourite toy in all the world since she was a baby. But just as she reached it, her paws grasping her childhood treasure, she was yanked by her baby fuzz-covered neck and pulled away. Her stuffed owl plush, which had been her comfort through eleven years of her life, was torn from her grasp._

 _Hermione squeaked shrilly in pain, the grasp of the hand on her skin was pinching her horribly. She writhed, trying to free herself, but it only made it the pain worse._

" _Get this filthy animal out of here!" Mrs Granger shrieked. She held the the stuffed owl in her arms with a wild, desperate look. "Haven't you done enough? Is our suffering not terrible enough for you?"_

 _Hermione squeaked in pain as she was shoved into Dumbledore's arms._

" _Get out of our house!" Mr Granger seethed._

 _The last thing Hermione had seen was the wrap of Dumbledore's robe as he drew her close to him. The last thing she heard before the crack of the Headmaster's Apparate took them away was the slamming of the Granger's front door._

* * *

"How did you end up as a ward of Hogwarts?" Luna asked.

"The Ministry sent a team of representatives to try and reason with my parents, but my Mum had a breakdown. Dad ordered them to go away and leave them in peace. They couldn't though, you see? They needed to know who would be taking care of me. Who would be responsible for me? Dad wanted to know if he and mum signed the legal papers, they would finally leave him and his wife alone. They said they couldn't leave unless one set or the other was signed. One was confirmation that they would continue to take care of me even though my physical body had changed. The other set was legally signing over my permanent custody to Hogwarts." Hermione sighed heavily. "They chose the latter."

"That must have been terribly hard on you," Luna said. "When I first met you, you always seemed happy."

"I spent over a week hiding under my Master's bed, refusing to come out," Hermione confessed. "Professor Snape pulled me out when I was too weak to resist, fed me, carried me around, and slept with me wrapped in this shrunken duvet laid in a small box by his bedside. He and Professor McGonagall carried me around with them everywhere until I began to mend. By the time Madam Pomfrey proclaimed me fully recovered, the bond between myself and Professor McGonagall was well and truly anchored, and the familiar bond to Professor Snape had finally cemented. The pain wasn't quite as bad after that. The connection— it mended me."

Luna looked out over the ocean dreamily. "It seems like you've been mended in many ways, Hermione. Perhaps, while tragic, what happened with your biological parents was a test— a test that, when passed, gave you something even more significant. Blood family to the Wizarding Bulgarian royal family? Bonded to two of Hogwart's most enigmatic professors? The familiar bond? Look what they are willing to do for you. They took a battery of tests side by side with you. They've settled in a foreign country to be by your side when they are not at Hogwarts."

Luna smiled. "What was it like, becoming human again?"

Hermione rubbed her shoulders, itching her arms. "It feels strange. For years I knew I wasn't really an otter, but being an otter became a part of me. I cannot imagine not being one. It feels like this human body is my Animagus form. Funny isn't it?"

"I've heard that the Animagus Registry doesn't quite know what to do with you," Luna said knowingly.

"Hah," Hermione exclaimed. "I'm certain they have no clue what to think of me. Rumor has it that Irene Ashenvale at the head office has me recorded as a divine happenstance. Officially. Next to it is a list of forms and those, I've heard, read 'zoo, take your pick'."

Luna smiled broadly. "You are a bit of a rule breaker."

Hermione sulked. "When I was a young girl, I was never one to break rules. Now look at me."

"Leaders, advisors, heroes, and prophets have all been rule breakers or outcasts in some way," Luna observed. "If they did not, they could not see what was beyond what others consider to be normal."

Hermione tilted her head and gazed at Luna. "I think you are a bit of a rebel yourself, Luna. You see things most people do not."

"I'd like to think that everyone sees these things," Luna replied dreamily. "I just happen to see them rather loudly and call them by name."

Hermione leaned back on the bench and laughed. "Perhaps, you are correct.

"Her-my-ninny!" a young girl ran down the path to her. She spat out a chain of rapid Bulgarian that had Hermione raising her brows.

"Oh?" Hermione replied in English.

The girl wave her hands excited.

Hermione said something in Bulgarian in a calming tone. Then, as if for Luna's benefit, said, "I suppose we should go look."

The girl took Hermione's hand and tugged insistently on it.

"Where are we going?" Luna asked.

"To get you a story, Luna," Hermione said with a grin. "Apparently, a parliament of owls flew on the grounds for the shrine and are carrying on like they own the place."

"I always prefer it when the stories come to me," Luna agreed.

"Well this one flew in with a score of wings," Hermione chuckled, allowing herself to be tugged through the halls by her eager young charge.

Luna watched the scene with considerable amusement and followed along behind. So much for her list of carefully scripted questions.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 _ **Bulgaria's First Shrine to the Goddess Minerva in Centuries Christened By Her Sacred Birds**_

 _A month ago, Bulgaria announced its plan to construct the first active Shrine to Minerva to be seen in hundreds of years. Once, such shrines dotted the landscapes of a great many civilizations, but in more recent times, all that remains of those bygone days are mere ruins attesting to a once great respect and love for the Goddess of Wisdom._

 _Minerva, or Athena as she is called by the Greeks, was not only the Goddess of Wisdom. She also presided over the domains of inspiration, courage, justice, laws, mathematics, arts, and even war. The High Priestess of Minerva, Priestess Noctua, who moved from the city of Athens to oversee the new Shrine, tells us that Minerva was a goddess who epitomised the rise of civilization. She was renowned for her calm serenity and slowness to anger as well as being both a compassionate goddess but also a most formidable seeker of justice. Minerva would never make war for war's sake alone. When She raised Her spear and shield, it was always for a just and specific purpose._

 _Not even a month following the announced construction of the shrine, thousands of donations began pouring in from all four corners of the earth. While the shrine has not yet been completed, many have made pilgrimages already, leaving tokens bearing her beloved owl at the site where Minerva's statue will stand proudly at the heart of the shrine._

 _While not mandatory, many who visit choose to leave their tokens in the form of the old owl-emblazoned tetradrachm coins. A local craftsman mints the coins by hand in exchange for regular currency. The pilgrim obtains the coin, which is traditionally left when visiting the shrine and offering prayers. The craftsman, known as Castor Silverleaf, takes takes great pride in his work, and all proceeds go back to the shrine. He and his family, who are a clan of local artisans, fund their efforts through sales of their traditional metalwork and silversmithing._

 _Minerva, Herself, seems to approve of the goings on in Bulgaria, as a parliament of owls turned up on a blustery afternoon and took up residence on the grounds of Her shrine. The owls, which seem content to watch the construction of the site, sometimes choose to visit pilgrims as they enter the grounds._

 _High Priestess Noctua, who has high hopes for the return of respect for her Goddess, believes that Minerva smiles down upon the construction of Her first shrine in centuries._

" _The need for wisdom does not wane as civilisation grows ever larger and more vast," Noctua stated. "It is at the height of civilisation that wisdom is most needed."_

 _Other news from Bulgaria seems to focus on the growing need for wisdom, as Rita Skeeter's fate seems hang in the balance between the Country she was finally caught in and the Country she had shamefully abused for many long years. Bulgaria's Shark King refuses to give her up until he is certain regarding the specifics of the information Ms Skeeter illegally obtained from the guests at his son's wedding. Britain, on the other hand, wants to lock Skeeter up in Azkaban as quickly as possible both to punish her and also to keep her from being assassinated by hordes of her very irate victims. As to who will win the stalemate regarding her eventual incarceration, no one seems to know how or when this debacle might reach a final conclusion._

 _Perhaps, the Goddess of Wisdom Herself might offer fitting counsel with regard to Rita Skeeter's fate._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As the door to Rita's holding cell slowly opened, she expected to see the scowling man who had been her near-constant companion, once again bringing her the dreadful excuse for food that had been inflicted on her thrice daily since her unfortunate capture. Every day, the man seemed to scowl ever more darkly at her to the point that she had become convinced that his face was permanently frozen in that expression.

The first night, they had brought her something that might have been soup, but she was convinced that she had seen a fish head staring dolefully up at her from the broth and her stomach had swiftly rebelled. She couldn't even force herself to eat it, despite how very hungry she was. The man had brought it to her, smelling it as though it were the ambrosia of the gods, setting it down with a small, intricately carved wooden soup spoon.

She had shoved it back at him the moment she saw the fish, trying to hold back her rising bile. The man had looked personally offended, as though the offering had been gourmet fare, but Rita wasn't buying it. Surely they were taunting her with food that was even worse than the foulest hospital gruel.

The next day, they brought her a rich, white, creamy-looking soup with chopped nuts sprinkled on top along with green flecks of vegetables. She had tried it, and almost immediately spit it out. The soup had been ice cold. The man had scowled even more fiercely at her, muttering something that sounded quite unpleasant in the strange language he spoke.

He had tried to bring her something for lunch, and she took one look at the mixture of what looked like the contents of a sheep's stomach filled with rice and vegetables covered with some kind of white sauce. She didn't even try it. For all she knew, it actually _was_ cooked in a sheep's stomach. She hated haggis, and whatever it was had looked far too similar.

Days passed, and Rita grew hungrier and hungrier. Every meal hour they would bring her something that passed for "food" and drink. She didn't drink because she figured it was drugged. She didn't eat because she figured they were trying to poison her.

They're trying to starve me to death, she thought to herself. They think I'll spill my guts when I'm starving. She had to admit, it would probably work.

They finally managed to get her to drink when they took a sip of the beverage in front of her, seeming to realise that she was extremely paranoid. They offered her no such service with regard to the "food," which only further convinced Rita that they really were trying to kill her.

They had subjected Rita to a series of interrogations even before the starving treatment. To her horror, she found herself spewing out many things that she had no idea she even remembered. The wizard and witch team who spoke with her didn't even have to threaten her. They just spoke to her in low voices with scowling faces, and she found herself singing like a bird about everything. It was nauseating. Surely, she was better than that!

Now, weeks later, she was truly starving, and she suspected that if someone came in, spoke English, and asked her her entire life story in exchange for real food like a nice juicy steak, she would spill her guts and tell them everything.

For the dinner hour, he returned, bringing her a solitary red pepper on a plate. She had thought he was mocking her by then. Bringing her a red pepper was hardly food. He set it down on the solitary table in her cell and left, muttering to himself. Perhaps they wished she would just hurry up and eat her poisoned food and finally be done with it.

The cell offered very little privacy. Thanks to her offenses, which, in her opinion, were far too minor to justify such harsh treatment, they had locked her in a room surrounded by some sort of transparent wall. At first she thought they had put her in a glass box, but whatever material it was, it wasn't glass. They could see everything she did, and they seemed to realise every time she tried to use her Animagus form to hide. They would stare at her, shaking their heads in disgust. It was like they knew she couldn't.

She was about to push the offending red pepper away, but her stomach was growling. Offensive or no, perhaps she could eat it. She was starving.

A little bit later, a tray came down for the guards, and they were all chattering happily. They lifted the lid off the tray and passed around plates of food. Rita figured it was some wonderful food that they would eat just to taunt her and her solitary red pepper.

Much to her surprise, however, each of them passed around red peppers and smiled. They deftly lifted the stem and revealed a hidden cache of steaming hot stuffing of some sort. All of them dug in hungrily, chatting to themselves. It was then that Rita realised they hadn't been giving her starvation rations. They had been giving her what they typically ate.

Rita tore into the cap of the red pepper, revealing a pilaf of rice minced meat, onions, and spices. She couldn't take it anymore, and she devoured it, stuffing it into her mouth quickly, barely even trying to chew. She resolved herself to the fact that if she was going to die of poisoning, at least she did it on a full stomach.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Hello, Ms Skeeter. You know, you really shouldn't shun the _tarator_ ," Hermione said, leaning against the clear cell wall. "It is my mother's favourite summer soup. The cucumber and walnuts mix with the garlic perfectly with just enough garlic to be perfect."

Rita looked up from her cell bed. It wasn't a cold, damp floor with straw or chains like she supposed was typical in Azkaban, but it wasn't exactly her comfortable plush mattress from home, either. Despite the fact that her cell had clear walls, it was still horribly dark, and she could barely see the outline of the person addressing her. She realised, however, as she saw the crown, exactly who this witch was.

"Granger," Rita hissed.

"Now, is that anyway to greet someone who has never shown you an ounce of disrespect?" Hermione calmly replied. "While I'm sure there are many who would say I do not have any reason to address you so civilly, I believe I've been raised much better than that."

Rita narrowed her eyes. "By the parents who have only known you as their daughter for less than year or the parents you allowed to think you were dead?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, Rita thought she was hallucinating. Mist seemed to fill the room, and for a moment, she thought the little harlot who had managed to charm two Hogwarts professors and the O.W.L. testing board to boot, had somehow sprouted wings. The moment, however, quickly passed.

"Is there something I have done to earn your spite, Ms Skeeter," Hermione asked. "Have I wronged you in a previous life? Did I heedlessly run over your puppy with my automobile?"

Rita frowned at the unknown reference.

"What have I done, however intentionally, to rate such steadfast dedication to my downfall?" Hermione asked, her face surprisingly serene.

Rita glared at her. "You, the wondrous little Muggle-born witch. You were born into a family who couldn't even recognise you when your supposed friends succeeded in turning you into a rodent. Yet somehow, you gain all the positive support and accolades. You seduce a member of the royal family so completely that he resorts to blood magic to make you his family. Everyone thinks you are so special, but _I_ know the truth."

Hermione tilted her head. "What, pray tell, would that "truth" be?"

Rita glowered at her. "You're perfectly ordinary. And due to some freak spell that made people go all _awww_ at your cute little eyes and fluffy tail, you somehow became _special_ , while real witches and wizards have to bust their bollocks to get their names known and respected."

Hermione stared at Rita with unflappable calm as though nothing the blonde writer said could possibly affect her. "Tell you what, Ms Skeeter, since you are so convinced of my inherent guilt. Why don't we make a deal?"

"I have no interest in squelching the truth! I will publish the truth about your schemes. The people have the right to know!" Rita hissed furiously.

"By all means, tell me the truth," Hermione said after a moment. She made a gesture with her fingers, tracing an invisible design in the air, then glanced back at Rita again. " _Those who beneath the earth punish whosoever has sworn a false oath,_ Ms Skeeter. "Swear to me on the Erinyes that you will publish nothing but the truth should I decide to let you out of this cell. Swear that you will not bring undue harm unto others by bending the truth or fabricating falsehoods, and I will speak to my father-king and have you released back to Britain where you are convinced it will be so much better for you."

Rita brightened at the prospect of being released. Once she was back in England, everything would be so much better again. "Fine, I swear it."

Hermione's face became very serious. "Swear it on the Erinyes, Ms Skeeter."

Rita grit her teeth together and stared Hermione down. "I swear on your little eh-reen-EE-ess that I will publish nothing but the truth if I am allowed to leave here." She oozed out the oath, believing that her version of the truth would prevail.

Hermione stared at her, silent. She straightened from the wall and had a strange, almost far-away expression on her face. Then, in a moment, she was focused. "I will speak to my father-king as agreed, then, Ms Skeeter," she said after a while. "I look forward to reading your next article, provided, of course, you can find a paper willing to publish it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Rita, but gave no other sign of not believing her oath. "Довиждане, Ms Skeeter," she said calmly. "Една лястовичка пролет не прави." With that, Hermione turned, waved her hand over the door and left, passing through the door as though it was not there at all. When Rita reached her hand out, though, it was perfectly solid to the touch.

"What kind of freakish blood magic does this horrible place have?" Rita hissed. "Oh, I'll publish the truth, you little rodent. Just because you walk on two legs doesn't change what you are. People will know the real truth. Make no mistake about that, missy."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 _ **Notorious Tabloid Writer, Rita Skeeter, Vanishes Without a Trace**_

 _Not even a day after returning from Bulgaria, Rita Skeeter, the infamous Daily Prophet journalist, has mysteriously disappeared, seemingly into thin air. Aurors were went to pick up Ms Skeeter, newly released from her incarceration in Bulgaria for multiple crimes against the Royal Family, a young child, and countless guests at Crown Prince Viktor Krum's wedding._

 _After Bulgaria's king released Skeeter to the Aurors, she was fitted with a magic dampening bracelet and escorted back to England. Ms Skeeter, who was spotted going into the Ministry of Magic with her head held high, seemed confident that all of her charges would be dropped once the Wizengamot heard "the truth"._

 _What happened once Skeeter was presented to the Wizengamot, however? Well, no one can quite explain what they say happened next._

 _Some say that Rita Skeeter suddenly began screaming as though someone or something terrible was chasing her. She repeatedly begged the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot to save her, but, strangely, there was nothing that appeared to be threatening her: Ms Skeeter was pointing and gibbering at thin air. Others have claimed that the room abruptly became very hot, as though the full force of the sun were beating steadily down upon the room. No one, however, can quite explain what they claim happened next: Rita Skeeter was allegedly pulled into the very earth, screaming in terror all the way._

" _I've never seen anything quite like it in my life," Eugenia Jenkins said. The Minister for Magic seemed utterly baffled by this strange turn of events. "She was there, proclaiming that once we knew the truth, everything would change. She started to detail a large conspiracy, and then it all went pear-shaped. It was a complete shambolic mess!"_

" _She was screaming," Amelia Bones reported. "She just sank into the ground. There wasn't a trace left of her."_

 _Aurors found no trace of Rita Skeeter, but the stone she had been standing on as she was seemingly dragged under the earth was marked with ancient Greek symbols. It was later found that the meaning of the symbols was "false oath."_

 _The Aurors encourage anyone who may know the actual whereabouts of Ms Skeeter to please contact the Aurors office by owl and not to attempt to engage. It is unknown if Rita's escape was carefully planned and acted out, or if something far more sinister has befallen her._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I think I shall reconsider my name for you, and call you 'Bucket'," Severus commented as Hermione was lazily loafing about inside a giant pail of water.

Ottermione squeaked at him happily, bashing her opal focal bashing stone against a very large and spiky sea urchin.

"How do you even fit in that bucket?" Severus asked. "You're not the tiny fuzzball of youth that used to fit in my pocket."

Hermione chirped wistfully. "I miss those pocket days."

"Hn," Snape noted. "Are you ready to return to Hogwarts, Menace? Minerva went along ahead to catch up on her Deputy Headmistress duties. She told me to… how did she put it? 'Pry you from your haunting duties' I believe she said."

Hermione churred. "I like it here. I know you and Professor McGonagall feel the same."

"Alas, we do have our duties to tend to," Severus replied sombrely. "Besides, who would take care of all of children who prefer to blow themselves up rather than listen to how to properly brew anything more complicated than a cup of tea?"

Ottermione squeaked indignantly. "I brewed very well when I was eleven, Professor."

"You, miscreant," Snape said, tapping his finger to her otter nose, "brew better as an otter than most students in their seventh year."

Hermione beamed up at him, radiating contentment. "I had excellent insider information."

"True," Snape answered, "but you also actually paid attention to it."

Hermione jumped out of the pail once her snack was consumed, shaking herself off over Snape's dragonhide boots.

He scowled down at her. "Have we spontaneously regressed to childhood?"

She gave him an ottery smile, her pearly white teeth flashing.

"Going back to school seems a bit anti-climactic after the eventful summer we've had," Hermione confessed.

"I've been going back to school for years in perpetual purgatory," Snape said. "Even Fate seems to think it wants to keep me a bloody teenager."

Hermione made a chattering sound. "Nonsense. If anything, Madam Pomfrey said the de-aging accident has you around twenty physiologically. You're technically out of the teen years and sit on the cusp of young adulthood by more than two years."

"Now, perhaps," Snape groused. "I had to stare at my teenage face for a number of years, again, while chasing you around Hogwarts."

"Sirius seems to think you missed out on a great opportunity," Hermione noted.

"Black is an imbecile with poor taste in romantic companions," Snape said darkly.

Hermione made a huffing sound. "He means well. It's not his fault he's such a poor role model."

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "If not his fault, then whose? He can't blame his family forever. Regulus is hardly the blithering idiot when it comes to non-committed relationship disasters."

Hermione chirped sadly. "I miss Regulus. The last time he came back from assignment, he brought me a glorious tin of butter biscuits and a king crab from Alaska."

Snape snorted. "He spoils you rotten."

Ottermione squeaked happily, radiating smugness.

Severus sighed. "I suppose I spoil you just as rotten."

Hermione shook her head at him. "You've always treated me like a person, Master. Even when others could only see… an animal."

Severus scowled. "You have always been a person. Minerva sees that. I see that. The bloody Marauders see that. Lily has always called you her daughter, and she had meant it. Even that old goat knows it."

"That's not very nice, Professor," Hermione said, wiggling her whiskers at him.

"I am not a nice man, Menace," Severus argued.

"Bollocks," Hermione snorted. "You're perfectly sensible."

He arched a brow at her.

"I shall defer my argument in favour of the fate of one Rita Skeeter," Hermione chirped. "You have never gone back on your word."

Severus sighed. "Did you know what would happen to her, when you went to visit her?"

Hermione shook her head. "I gave her a chance to make things right," she said. "Everyone deserves that at least once."

Severus frowned, opening his arms.

Hermione transformed, burying herself into his robes. "I will miss this," she said sadly. "In Hogwarts we must be so perfectly proper."

"I'll have you know, I have never been improper with you, Miss Krum," Severus said with a sniff.

Hermione looked up at him. "Maybe one day, we can be improper together," she said with a small smile, "and make up for lost time."

Severus snorted. "I think I will have to keep you from baby-sitting Black when he's drunk."

Hermione gazed up at him sadly, her eyes flickered with a heavy, tangible defeat. She forced a smile. "I'll go fetch my things," she said, retreating down the corridor.

Severus winced. For the first time, he felt an emotion from her that he had never felt before: disappointment. It wasn't the same sort of feeling when she was denied her favourite food or when he closed the book she had been reading and admonished her to go to bed. He replayed the event in his head, trying to figure out where he had blundered. He wanted desperately to chase the feeling away, if only he could figure out what had caused it.

What had he said that bring such a sadness about her?

Severus pulled his teaching robes around him like a shield. _And why do I feel so bloody awful?_ he thought to himself.

He realised, with some discomfiture, that he had no idea at all.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 **A/N:** It hurt to write the section where Hermione's parents denied her. I was suffering. True, I also have a horrible cold and sinus infection, and I feel as though my head needs to be taken off, cleaned, and refitted… ugh.

And it's back to doing care-plans for me. My blissful winter holiday has come to an end. Updates will be haphazard and only done when homework/care plans are finished. Thank you all for your kind understanding as my real life tries to consume me on a daily basis. Your wonderful reviews make me very happy.

Hermione tells Rita "Довиждане" (dovízhdane) which is good-bye. She was telling her farewell. Една лястовичка пролет не прави means "one swallow does not make it spring" which is her way of saying "I don't think you will change at all, Rita."

She was right.


End file.
